


One Frozen Winter

by virtualpersonal



Series: Seasons Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 17 year old sam, Cabin Fic, Christmas, Christmas Vacation, Holiday, Hotel Sex, M/M, Sexy Times, Snowed In, Stanford Era, Wincest - Freeform, slight angst, xmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3944335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months of silence between the boys, they are invited to meet their Father for Christmas - there's only one problem - they're to meet back at the "infamous" summer cabin.  Faced with their greatest test of will yet, foul weather and their memories - what will happen?  Hot & angsty. Sequel to One Hot Summer and One Long Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Cha

Many things were in Sam's mind that winter: School, Jess, living arrangements for the Winter semester ... and then... this. An invitation out of the blue, by email no less, from his Dad inviting both boys for a 'family' Christmas. Sam hadn't wanted to go, Jess, convinced him that trying to repair things with Dean and maybe even his Dad would be good. She claimed she could see a sadness in him that wasn't there before Dean's last visit.

At any rate, here he was sitting in Jess' car staring at the license plate on the back of the Impala shivering his ass off. "Go see your family" Jess had said, "sort yourself out." But the notion of family was a strange one for Sam: A distant father he'd not spoken to since he left for college and a brother ... Dean was so much, so many things. Dean had raised him, bandaged his cuts and scrapes, gone to his school plays, driven him to movies with his friends, taught him how to shoot, comforted him through years of nightmares and growing pains. But ... the past six months had been tough, a roller coast ride of emotions. The best summer trip of his life - just months ago - in this same cabin. Falling asleep night after night in Dean's arms, safe, peaceful, loved - he'd thought. It was the last time he had felt safe, protected ... free. But then things got complicated.

Sam was far from stupid. He knew that touching the way they did, wanting his brother's body, wasn't normal. Hell, it was about as far from normal as you could get. But - what about their lives had ever been normal? There were no summer camps, no sleepovers, no baseball teams or track meets. For Sam there was only, Dean. He was the only consistent thing in Sam's life. Well, until now. Now? Sam had no idea where he stood with Dean. What he did know was that he had nothing left to give. There would be no more sticky fumblings in the dark followed by guilty disappearances. Sam was finished with that, as much as it hurt to even think that way. Dean had hurt him in the Fall like Sam had never been hurt by anyone before. He doubted there was anyone else who even had that kind of power over him. Some bonds get too twisted and broken to fix. He sighed and got out of the car.

Standing there in the snow, shivering, his mind raced. Sam had some decisions to make. Some of them would be really tough but he knew, somehow, one way or another seeing Dean again was part of that process. Jess was right, and she was also an incredibly good friend. As Sam moved around to the trunk of the car he thought of his last conversation with Jess. It had started because she had asked Sam if he was in love with her. When Sam hadn't been able to answer Jess had smiled in a surprisingly loving way, taken his hand and said "I thought so." They had spoken for hours, cried, laughed, Sam couldn't even remember it all. It had worn him out, absolutely and completely. Jess didn't know what was going on with Sam and Dean; Sam could never tell her, but she was an intelligent, perceptive woman. She knew there was someone else in Sam's life. She had no idea who it was, in fact, she said it didn't matter to her she could see it in the pain in Sam's eyes. She assured Sam that she knew he hadn't done it deliberately. Love, she had said, was something that just happened to you, not something you decided. Sam had sure grimaced at that one. But she'd left Sam with an ultimatum. Come back to me whole-heartedly, or come back just as my friend.

Sam hauled his duffel out of the trunk, shaking like a leaf, from the cold, sure that was it. He stared down at the shore for a minute, completely convinced he could hear the echoes of their voices from a few short months ago, whooping and hollering, laughing in the sunlight.

Trudging through the snow, Sam climbed the stairs and stood outside the door for a few minutes. It all flooded back to him, sitting on the stairs with Dean in the heat, drinking, the first time he pressed his lips to his brother's. He took in a shuddering breath, free hand fisted into the material of his jeans. He unzipped his jacket, letting the cold air wash over him and take the summer away, done and gone. He knocked... after all, this wasn't his home anymore, even though he was once convinced it was.

Yanking the door open, Dean stood wide eyed and shocked. He'd expected his father, not Sam. He'd half convinced himself Sam would never come, not for a Christmas thing, and never here. "Sam," he said thickly, throwing one arm over his shoulder and the other under in a hug. He didn't mean to pull him close, not so tight... but he couldn't not. "I didn't think you'd..." he slapped him on the back a couple of times and started to pull away, eyes seeking his brother's for a hint as to what was going on inside his head.

Sam stiffened under his brother's touch, shrugged a shoulder uncomfortably under the strap of his duffel trying to distract himself from Dean's warmth. He felt a panic wash over him, suddenly thinking this was a really big mistake. "H hey, Dean." His hand drifted to Dean's hip, then stopped and fell back to his side. As Dean pulled back Sam looked down, hair falling across his face as he shuffled his feet a little to shake off some of the snow. "I should probably ... you know ... come in," he muttered swinging his duffel round in between them.

"Ah..." Feeling Sam's stiffness and the bag, Dean moved aside. Once his brother was inside, he took in a few long breaths of the frozen air. He shouldn't be surprised... only he was. "You can put your stuff in the bedroom. I can take the couch," he forced out, turning around at last and closing the door behind him. Their dad would take the other bedroom, and he might even wonder why the boys weren't sharing the one with two beds. Dean had already put his stuff down in the bedroom, he'd been that sure Sam wouldn't come.

Dean licked his lips. "You alright, Sammy? I don't know why he picked this place," he said, feeling at a loss and not knowing how to help Sam or himself past this awkward moment.

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I'm good, Dean. This place is... as good as any..." he ran his hand through his hair shrugging off his coat and picking up his duffel again. "and thanks - I'll just put my stuff in the bedroom...dig out a sweater " He shivered then paused for a few moments feeling the tension in the room. "Well... I'll uh.. " he turned "yeah...be right back."

He tried not to hurry into the bedroom, but relief washed over him once he made it there. He tossed his duffel on the floor and flopped down face down on the bed. He wanted to strangle Jess for talking him into this. Now that he was actually here, he realized how hard it was going to be. Yeah, it was easy to decide not to touch Dean, but you couldn't just decide not to want something. Sam groaned into the bed loudly then pushed himself up, unzipped his bag and pulled out some groceries.

When he came back out of the bedroom he went straight to the kitchen, put the bag on the counter and started putting things away. He chuckled to himself when he got to a bag of homemade cookies that Jess must have packed when he was looking. It had a small sticker on it that said "Merry Christmas Winchester Men, Love Jessica." Smiling, he went back out into the living room with the bag.

Dean had noticed his brother didn't even look at him as he disappeared into the kitchen. Had he fucked things up so bad when he'd visited Sam and tried to make things better? This wasn't better. Hearing Sam, he pulled his face out of his hands and caught the smile. "Wanna share the good news? I could use some," he said, not sure why he was being that honest. Maybe it was this place.

Sam felt the smile on his face falter a little, realizing he hadn't even bothered to ask Dean how he was.. He tossed the bag to Dean, "Jess made us cookies." Sam's eyes drifted over the couch, therewas a memory he didn't need right now. He walked over to the fireplace where Dean already had a fire going and sat down on the hearth, still shivering slightly. "So.. how are things?"

Catching it, Dean went to sit down on the couch, his gaze skimming over the neat handwriting on the bag, before tossing it onto the coffee table. "I just got the heating going, might take a while to warm up in here." How was he doing? He felt a little like half of himself had stayed there on campus with Sam, only... not really with Sam, just watching him with Jess. And the other half wasn't doing so good either. "Busy. Dad's off on some secret hunt he won't tell me about but he keeps sending me all over, you know the drill." Only he hated being alone. He'd never felt alone when it had been just him and Sam. "You? Jess?" He forced a smile.

Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. "Well, you know... we're okay." Even as he said it - Sam knew it was the closest he'd ever come to lying to his brother. He just didn't want to get into it. He looked over at Dean, thinking how tired he looked. He bristled, thinking that Dad, yet again, was putting too much on Dean's shoulders and leaving him alone to handle it. Typical. Staring at Dean from under his bangs Sam forced a smile, feeling bad for being so distant. "When's the old man supposed to be here?"

"By Christmas... it's what he said." Years of Christmases echoed in Dean's head. "Hey, remember that year Santa got you that, what was it... we couldn't figure it out. I saw one of those... I know what it is now. It's ah... one of those things you screw at the end of a curtain rod. You know, like for decorating?" He guessed stealing from a housewife who had decorating on her mind hadn't been a good idea. "It was... funny... me trying to explain it's purpose." His eyes met Sam's, but instead of amusement, he saw something else in the depth's of Sam's eyes.

Sam huffed out a small laugh, "Yeah... I remember..." He smiled, knowing it didn't quite reach his eyes, and lifted a hand to push his hair back off his face. "So - we won't expect to see Dad till after Christmas?" Sam felt a wave of bitterness wash over him. "How many times have we heard that promise?" Sam's knee started to bounce, he was fighting the urge to just grab his bag, get back in the car and go and find Jess.

"Nah, he'll be here," Dean said, with as much vehemence as he had when he'd insisted the same thing year after year. His gaze went to Sam's leg. "You ah... it's kinda early but you want a beer?" Even the most innocent of questions took on layers of meaning. "Or whiskey in coffee, if you want something hot."

Sam took a deep breath, "Yeah, sure, whatever you're having."

Whatever. Right, like Sam wasn't usually decisive about exactly what he wanted. Getting up, Dean watched Sam under his lashes as he passed him to go to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter as he waited for the water to boil, wondering if the ache in his heart could get any worse. The tension was thicker than it ever had been between them, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand it.

He tried to talk himself into thinking things would improve. That dad would get here and act as a buffer. That somehow things would regain a semblance of normalcy. but by the time he brought two steaming mugs of liquor infused coffee and Sam had hardly moved a muscle and looked shell shocked, like himself, he knew he was wrong.

"Here." He held the mug out, feeling like he'd been slapped when his brother didn't really look at him. "I... Sammy I can leave. You haven't seen dad but I don't wanna... It's Christmas. I'm not gonna ruin it for you."

Sam looked up,eyebrows raising, eyes softening, "Hey... no...." and he meant it. He reached out and grabbed his mug fingers resting on Dean's for a moment. "It's just..." he looked off to the side, puffing a breath out, "it's tougher ... than I thought it would be, Dean." He brushed his index finger over Dean's as he took his mug. As his eyes drifted up to meet his brother's he smiled, probably the first genuine one since he'd arrived. "I really fuckin' missed you." His voice broke slightly, the corner of his mouth twitched and he looked back down at his mug again. The coffee in his mug rippled as Sam's hand shook. "I .... it's been a tough... I have to sort some things out," he said looking up at Dean through his bangs. He was still shivering even with the warmth of the fire at his back. Shrugging, he took a sip of his drink, nodding his approval at Dean. "It's a bad time for me, that's all."

Dean sat down on the raised hearth next to Sam, putting his hand over Sam's shaking one, taking that mug and setting it down. "Sam... it's not only you, alright?" He took his brother's still trembling hand, closing his eyes for just a minute. "I miss you. Every fucking day, Sammy. Always did, but it's worse now." He wasn't gonna tell him how he imagined Sam playing house with Jess. How when he went to bed, wishing he had Sam next to him, he was damned sure Sam was hanging onto his special blonde... making plans. "I wish... I wish I could take it back," he kissed Sam's hand. "Everything... everything I've done to you. If I'd just fucked myself up okay... but not you." He swallowed as tears pricked his eyes, Goddamit... "I just... I don't know how to make it any better, other than to walk out that door Sam... I don't know how."

Sam didn't even bother trying to hide his tears, he was too tired, too confused. Without even being really aware of it, his fingers wrapped around Dean's hand squeezing. "I don't..." he whispered, "wish you could take it back, I mean." Wiping his face on his shirt sleeve Sam looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye. He'd never seen his brother like this. It was scaring him a little.

It was like Sam scratched a raw nerve. Dean couldn't believe that, could never believe Sam didn't regret what happened. At the time, they hadn't been able to resist and he'd thought they could handle this. But look at them... neither one of them was handling it.

Shifting, Sam turned toward Dean, "Listen, I don't want you to go." His thumb rubbed over the back of Dean's hand. "I have a lot I need to work out and..." he took a deep breath, "you're gonna hate it - but I really need to talk to you about some of it." Sam felt another tear trail down his cheek. "I just... " Sam pulled Dean's hand up to his mouth and returned the kiss there even though he desperately wanted to leave it on Dean's lips. "Maybe not right now you know? But will you? Talk to me I mean....?

Oh God, the soft touch of Sam's mouth on his hand. Engulfed by the need to pull him into his arms, Dean closed his eyes, struggling against his feelings. He felt wetness hit the back of his hand, his eyes fluttering open. "Sammy... Sam..." He did it, he pulled Sam into his arms, held him close to his heart. Held him where he belonged, had always belonged. His spoke around the large, painful knot in his throat. "Anything you want, anything you need. You know that. Anything." His fingers dug into Sam's back, not like a lover, but like someone clinging to a lifeline, though he wasn't sure if he was the one drowning or doing the rescuing.

Sam let his tears fall for a little while as he nuzzled into Dean's neck. It just really sucked when the person who hurt you most was the only person who could fix everything. Arms tight around his brother's waist Sam just breathed in his scent for a while knowing that the calm would just settle over him. And it did, just like always; the feel of Dean's chest rising and falling, the warmth of his body, his soft hair; Sam's worries lessened and his tears stopped.

Slowly, Sam pulled away and smiled. He gently tugged his hand back and gestured for his coffee. "I might need more than one of those tonight."

Nodding, missing him the instant he pulled away, Dean picked up his own mug. He used both hands, steading his own now shaking one. Only one person who walked the earth who could have this affect on him. Only one. He imagined he tasted Sam on his lips, though he'd been nowhere near them. He'd memorized his brother's taste... and his scent now clung to him. "Plenty more where that came from, believe me." He'd been drinking a lot lately, especially as Christmas approached.

Dean took a long sip, smacking his lips. "You wanna watch tv--" he snorted, and looked over at Sam. There wasn't one, that had been one of the problems in the heat of summer. "I forgot," he shrugged, and took another long drink.

Chuckling Sam dribbled some of the coffee he was trying to drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Dude! careful when I'm drinkin'." He grinned at his brother, noticing it didn't feel forced at all. "Have you forgotten how boring it was here this summer?" Warming his hands on the mug he smiled. "That's how we got in so much trouble in the first place." Turning to Dean, he gave him a wide smile. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, only the popping and cracking of the fire to listen to. But, it was okay, Sam bumped his knee against Dean's and let it rest there. It's not like they could forget how to be brothers.

Sam had stolen the words right out of his mouth. Dean had been about to point out that had been the trouble. His brother's smile, and knowing nudge teased a smile out of him. "Yeah... who knew." He gave a small chuckle.

The snow was starting to fall harder outside the window. "Hey - did you happen to check the weather before you came out here?" It hadn't occurred to Sam to look. Foolishly he'd been thinking he would check it on the laptop. Yeah, with no wireless anywhere in sight.

"It's cold," Dean shrugged. "No, but I did bring a radio. It's in the room." He looked out the window. "Maybe tomorrow you can go out there and build a snowman. This time, don't use a friggin' pistol for it's nose, okay?" The memory warmed him from the inside, just like the liquor, and just like Sam's smile. It was like a piece of ice inside him melted a little.

The laugh that burst out of Sam was full and genuine. "God! that was sheer brilliance, Dean!" He struggled to stop himself from chuckling so he could finish the rest of his coffee. "I was a born artist," he muttered, "just misunderstood."

Draining his mug, Sam stood up, "Okay, here's how it's gonna be, Dean. I'm starving - I must be fed and I'm exhausted so then I'm going to sleep." He grinned, "did you bring some stuff? I have a few things - we could scare up some sandwiches?"

"We can do better than that. Got mashed potatoes and burgers. Come on," he slapped Sam's thigh and got up. "Now you got my stomach growling." Pushing off, Dean headed for the kitchen and got out a frying pan. He looked up as Sam walked in. "Patties are in the freezer."

Sam laughed, "Dude! Did you say panties? Cause...uh..." he snickered and pulled the burgers out.

"Panties my ass, more like boxers these days," Dean muttered under his breath.

The brothers fell into an easy rhythm in the kitchen; Dean cooked the burgers, Sam foraged for condiments and tore up some lettuce, they caught each other up a little; Sam's marks, Dean's latest hunt, the last road trip Sam went on, and Bobby's latest and greatest string of swear words from Dean's most recent visit. It was good. Both boys felt calmer, a little more sure of each other by the time they were perched back in front of the fire with a plate of burgers and Dean's special mashed potatoes. All these years of eating them and Sam didn't know what made them special because, he was assured, Dean would have to kill him if he knew the secret.

Dean "mmm mmm'd' at his own cooking. "Didn't realize how hungry I was," he said, licking the ketchup dripping off his burger before it hit the plate.

It was a good meal - and for the first time in ages Sam was full. Only Dean ever knew exactly how much food to make if Sam was eating. The tension eased from their shoulders, they smiled more often and the conversation became easier, smoother. By midnight Sam was dopey with exhaustion and rubbing his stomach happily, complaining he looked like Buddha.

"I'm sorry man, I gotta crash." Sam hauled himself to his feet, "Holy crap I'm stiff... Jess didn't think of her six foot four boyfriend when she bought her car!" He smiled.

"Hmph... I don't think there's a car specially built for Sasquatches." Boyfriend. Dean took a deep breath and headed into 'Sam's room', emerging a moment later with his duffel bag. "I could do with some sleep too. Don't think dad's gonna show tonight, but if he does he'll want his bed." Tossing the bag on the table, he smiled. "G'nite Sammy."

"So, you're good on the couch?" Sam scratched his head, looking a little guilty.

"I'm used to sleeping in the car and the on the floor, this is a step up." He watched as Sam retreated to the safety of the room but noticed he didn't close the door. Stripping, he lay down on the couch and pulled a blanket over himself. Between the fireplace and the blanket, he'd be fine. Besides, there were two heating vents in the room.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. His mind ran over each event of the night, every word they'd said, every touch they'd shared. He wondered what Sam wanted to talk to him about. What could be said besides the obvious? He'd promised to talk, and he would. Didn't mean he wasn't nervous about it, or hoping Dad showing up would make Sam forget.

* * *

Dean woke with a start. All he knew was that his body hurt, and that he had goose bumps all over. The fire had died down but worse, there was no heat. "Sonova..." he got out of bed and reached for the lamp, pulling the chain. Another round of curses came out of him when he realized the electricity was gone. Fucking generator had to be restarted.

Pulling his jeans on and a shirt, he stuffed his feet into his boots, and headed out the door. Outside, the wind was howling and kicking up the flurries of snow. It was pitch black, fuck. He knew the shed was just on the other side of the car. Feeling his way around, he walked past the Impala, his foot going into some sort of hole so he was knee thigh high in snow. Just how much snow had fallen?

Shivering like crazy, he made it to the shed. Finding the generator, he started to feel around it for the reset button. Another stream of curses came from him as it took too long to find and his chest practically stuck to the metal. Pressing it got a bit of a whirling/grinding noise, but the generator refused to come back to life. He tried a couple times more, but it was too fucking cold for him to stay out here like this.

He left the shed, and hurried ... trying to find his way without another mishap. Shit, where was the car? He searched with his hands.

* * *

Sam was out of bed like a shot, and stumbling around the room before he even had time to wonder why. "What the hell?" he muttered, it was cold; far colder than when he went to bed. He tried the lamp by the bed - and realized the power had gone out. Turning to find his duffel he tripped on it, landing hard on his knee, "Fuck!" He untangled himself from the strap and limped out into the living room. Dean would know where the generator was, maybe they could find a flashlight and try and restart it.

When he reached the living room Dean wasn't on the couch, his blankets were thrown aside and there was some snow melting by the front door. Jesus Dean had gone out there already to start up the generator. Striding over to the door Sam pulled it open, shocked by the wind and snow outside. "Dean!" he yelled out in to the darkness. All he could hear was the wind. Reaching over he grabbed his jacket and stuffed his feet into his boots then went out on the porch and halfway down the stairs. He couldn't see more than five feet in front of him, and fear started to wash over him. The generator wasn't on, what if Dean hadn't made it there?

"Dean," he screamed out.

"Sam? Sam!" He shouted, hearing his brother's voice, trying to follow it. He heard his name called again and again, and one step at a time, found himself bumping into the car. Passing it, he reached out to the post and started heading up the stairs. "Here," he shouted, shivering like crazy as he bumped into Sam.

Sam had called again and again stepping out as far as he could into the swirling snow and darkness. And then he had seen something move and lunged, grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him towards the cabin. "Jesus Christ," he muttered seeing that Dean wasn't even wearing a jacket. He tossed an arm over Dean and pulled him up the stairs, kicking the door shut behind them.

Dean made an unintelligible sound, his teeth clattering together and adding to it as he rubbed his arms. "Fucking hell." He staggered away toward the fire, knowing he shouldn't sit too close to it but in such pain he couldn't help himself. "C... couldn't get it working. Gen... generator." His lips felt like they were about to fall off.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Dean?" Sam was pissed, his heart still pounded in his chest. There weren't many things left that scared him after the life they'd lead, but losing Dean... was a waking nightmare. Shrugging off his jacket, Sam wrapped his arms around his brother pulling him up close and rubbing his back. "Scared the shit outta me," he muttered into Dean's cold, damp hair. "We gotta get you warmed up you jerk."

He couldn't apologize, or tell Sam he was fine. His mind and words were coming slowly. "S..."

Tucking Dean's shoulders under his long arm, Sam lead his older brother down the hallway to the bedroom. He pushed Dean down to sit on the edge of the bed and quickly rifled through his duffel pulling out a flashlight. "Can you get your clothes off? Do you need help?" Sam clicked the flashlight on and set it on the bedside table so they could see, heart still pounding in his chest.

"I..." His hands shaking as he tried to undo his buttons. He tried again, and shook his head. "Yeah... need he help." Then he saw the look on Sam's face, the stark fear in his eyes. "I'm fine." Looking down, he tried to concentrate, tried to work the buttons even as his numb fingers ignored his commands.

Sam took a few deep breaths, Dean was okay, okay. "Hey, s'alright," he stepped closer and moved dean's hands away gently, "let's get you warmed up." The cold the seeped out of Dean's skin startled Sam and he tried to move a bit quicker without worrying Dean. He undid the button and zipper on Dean's pants and pushed them down with his boxers, stood him up long enough to pull them down, then grabbed dean's shoulders and sat him down on the bed again. He gave Dean a shaky smile and pulled his jeans the rest of the way off doing a quick visual check of Dean's legs to make sure he hadn't hurt himself.

Long fingers slipped under the hem of Dean's t-shirt; he nodded to Dean to raise his arms and pulled the t-shirt off. Dean was pale and shivering and it made Sam's heart ache a little. Just like his big brother to worry about getting the generator started and just race out there without thinking.

"Come on," he yanked the covers back and pushed on Dean's chest gently guiding him into the bed.

Now that the wet material was off him, Dean was just cold. Like a freakin' popsicle cold. Still, he wanted to reassure Sam, but the look in his brother's eyes told him not to argue. Almost humbly, he slipped under the covers, shivering. His request for clothes died on his lips as the realization struck him between the eyes seconds before Sam started to peel his own clothes off. 'Rule number one... share body warmth if one of you is exposed to cold.' Dad's words rang in his ears.

Sam had stripped quickly and tossed his clothes in the corner and it only took a few seconds for him to climb into the bed. Half expecting Dean to protest, Sam quickly tucked one arm under his brother's neck, the other over his waist, threw a long leg over Dean's thighs and pulled him close. Pressing his lips up against Dean's temple he breathed deeply, "you okay, Dean?" His skin was so cold Sam was starting to ache wherever their flesh touched.

You okay. Right, like this wasn't the biggest cosmic joke ever. Like he wasn't trying, hadn't been trying to make things right. Now they were naked in the same bed, and Dean would thaw out, and then what. His upstairs brain knew exactly what his downstairs brain would try. Still, Sam's body warmth, his touch, his comfort, welcome... always welcome. He shivered again, finally wrapping his own arms around his brother and speaking against his ear. "Don't worry, I'm fine. Just a little cold. Making you cold," he took a deep breath, "since when do you use flowery shampoo." The question just slipped out.

Sam huffed and pulled Dean in closer, "Makes my hair feel soft," he muttered. He rubbed his hand up and down Dean's back trying to get his blood moving. "Easiest time I ever had getting you in bed," he murmured in Dean's ear with a smile on his face. Reaching up he massaged the back of his brother's neck, smile still on his face. It was nice to be needed for once, be the one doing the fixing.

Dean gave a grumpy "hrmph." Burrowing closer, he answered, smiling against Sam's skin. "That's a big lie. You *know* my middle name is easy." The things they'd done in this bed, discovered about each others' bodies. Memories of sweet and salty kisses, of murmurs and pleas, of teasing and earnest single minded humping. He squirmed a little, realizing his cock was no longer completely flaccid and the situation had just gotten dangerous.

"Okay, I can't believe this is me saying this to you but... stop squirming." Sam tightened his leg over Dean's and pulled him closer. He tried desperately to ignore the fact that some of Dean's body seemed to be heating up quite efficiently. So what, it's natural, it's not like they hadn't... well, Sam didn't need to be going there right now. He pressed his lips to Dean's forehead, checking his temperature, noting he still felt really cool to the touch.

"Sam if you keep that up--" he hadn't meant to say it, but the words were out. Fact was that they were both naked, there was no space between them, and frozen or not, he was getting aroused. Sam could do that to him from across the room. Up close and personal? He had no chance. His heart rate kicked up a notch, and all he could think about now was forgetting the pain of the months before, of the current frozen state of his body. There was a way, one. But each time he allowed himself to go down that path they were both knocked down just a little farther, and climbing back out was just a little harder.

"You know Dean, you could do some research every now and again - it wouldn't kill you. The lips are the best judge of body temperature." Sam pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Dean's cheek.

"Sam." This time Dean's fingers dug into Sam's arm and side, he was so fucking aware of how Sam had locked his leg around his, how just a simple thrusting motion would have them writhing and moaning.

Fully prepared to worry about everything later, Sam breathed out deeply tightening his hold on his brother. "Yeah?"

"It's gonna happen, isn't it?" he asked thickly, trying to deny it, deny his body, but he'd been down this road before.

Sam's breath hitched in his chest. All these months, and now Dean was just going to give in...just like that. All the hurt from the past few months came flooding back. "What? You're going to nearly fuck me then leave?"

Dean stilled, like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. If the generator had kicked in and the heater was back, he'd have crawled out of the bed. Instead he was forced to stay there, to face the damage he'd caused. His jaw tightened, ached as he thought on how hard he'd tried to resist. He had tried. "I deserved that." He loosed his grip on his brother and insisted on some space between them, pulling slightly away. "Good night."

Letting out a long sigh, Sam spoke softly "no, you didn't deserve that. I'm sorry." Sam's hand came to rest on the small of Dean's back, his other hand stroking Dean’s hair. "Listen, you hurt me, a lot. I ... " Sam tried to find the right words, "I was really messed up after you left. I guess .... I thought that we ... that it was gonna be okay and then you were just gone." He kissed Dean's forehead again, "I just wanted it to ... to be okay, 'cause it felt okay, it felt right and then when you left..." Sam wasn't even sure if there was a point to this conversation anymore. Dean had pulled away. "It just made me feel ... I dunno ... like you were disgusted with me or something." Sam buried his nose in Dean's hair.

"Disgusted. Not with you, never with you Sam." He didn't dare touch, or hold. It was enough that Sam was doing it for both of them, enough that he was fighting his instincts, his desires. He swallowed, his throat convulsing. "How? How was it gonna work out Sammy? Did you think you could hop between two beds like that? I didn't leave you alone, I left you with the woman you love. I made it eas... I tried to make it easier for you." That heavy cold stone was back in the pit of his stomach. Why couldn't he control himself with Sam? Why did he always try to start something? And look where it landed them when he did.

"I haven't slept with Jess since you left," Sam blurted out, "with anyone," his voice faltered, his courage fading. "She... we wanted to take a break. Said she knew there was someone else, wanted me to take some time to think about it." Sam took a shuddering breath, "And Dean, I'm not like that... I don't jump from one bed to another. I've well, I haven't been with that many people." Sam could feel a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"If I'd stayed, you would have." Yeah, one night with the girlfriend and one night... For one lousy second, his heart wondered if that would be better than this... better than no Sam in his bed, no Sam in his life. A muscle pulsed in his jaw. "And we talked about that before. You haven't been with others, you need to be. Just don't fucking tell me about it," he gave a short bark that passed for laughter.

Sam pulled back abruptly, seeking Dean's eyes in the dim light from the flashlight. "Is that really what you think of me? Some naive kid who could be in bed with you one minute and Jess the next? The kind of guy who could go out and pick up other people ...where at a bar like you do? Even when I'm in lov..." Sam's mouth snapped shut, teeth clacking together. He took a few breaths, steadying himself. "I haven't laid a finger on Jess since the last night I was ... with you."

"Because..." He did a double take, then centered himself. "Because she told you to take a break Sam, don't go changing history, alright? Be fair." That was all they had. "You've got her car now, you called yourself her boyfriend, don't.. don't mess with me. Just when I get my mind wrapped around it, don't." He took a couple of breaths, and didn't want to hear about Sam's love for anyone. "One thing you're right about... you shouldn't be following my lead," he snorted at the derision he'd heard in Sam's voice. Once, a long time ago, his pick-up abilities had fascinated not disgusted Sam.

"She's my friend, Dean. Jess cares about me. She didn't tell me we were taking a break. We decided we were. Dean..." Sam had wanted to do all this in the comfort of daylight, across a table, drinking coffee....not in the middle of the night, naked with Dean in his arms. "I have Jessica's car because she felt it would be good for me to be here...to talk to my older brother. She knows how much you mean to me. How you used to help me through...things ... nightmares...everything," Sam shook his head sadly. "The boyfriend comment was habit... we were together for a while you know?" Sam moved tentatively closer to Dean testing the walls his brother had thrown up so quickly. "Dean? Don't be mad... I Just... I'm really confused about the way I feel about.." Resting his head back against Dean's Sam fell silent.

That made two of them. He was so fucking confused it wasn't funny. Inside, he was a tangled mess. None of this made sense, and he just knew it was because Sam was changing shit around. You didn't go talking to a girl about how many kids you'd have, not unless you had a ring on her finger or pretty damned close. "I can't help you with this Sam. I am the problem, not the solution. Don't you see that?" He swallowed again, this time tasting tears... maybe of anger, he didn't know.

"I'm not going to keep doing this, going around in circles with you." Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean's cheek tasting his tears and feeling that wretched emptiness in his heart. He tugged Dean towards him roughly and wrapped his arm back around his brother's waist. "You can think what you want, Dean, I thought what I wanted was with Jess. Now, I don't know. But - it seems like I don't have a lot of options."

Sam cleared his throat trying to get rid of the lump that was growing there. "If you don't listen to anything else i say, you get this right." He slid down a little without releasing his hold on his brother and pressed his lips against Dean's. His eyes closed, he brushed his lips back and forth. Breath stuttering in his chest, he pulled back, seeking Dean's eyes. "That? I fucking dream about that, I think about it all the time, I feel it right through my whole body. It's what I want and I know it's not what you want. But I don't know how to not feel that" Feeling his eyes start to water, he closed them and rested his head back on the mattress. "You should sleep." He pulled Dean closer with his arm and hooked his leg tighter over Dean so he couldn't leave again without waking him up.

It's not what you want. It was illogical but the blood shot to Dean's temple. "You don't think I want this?" He rubbed his own burning lips across Sam's, gripping Sam to him again. "Or this?" this time he thrust his hips forward, dragging his erection across Sam's groin and hip. "Really? Then why the fuck do I keep falling into bed with you, Sammy? Why?!" he demanded gritted teeth. "This" he nudged against the irresistible heat of his brother's body again. "This I know what to do with. It's what happens after, when we're out of bed... Goddamit I have no clue how to deal with that. And I know you can't deal with it either... I don't want you to have to. I want you to..." His mouth was drawn into a flat line as he imagined Sam in a yard, playing with his kids. Fucking hell, Sam was gonna make him cry again... Goddamn him...

Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, fire racing through his veins, his body responding to Dean’s touch, his voice, the emotion rolling off him. "You want me to what....?" he whispered against Dean's lips.

Dean turned his face, trying to get away from Sam... but there was nowhere to go. His chest heaved with each deep breath that he took, trying to calm himself, but when the words exploded from him, he was anything but calm. "I want you to have a normal life. I want you to graduate... to be a suit, if that's what you want. I want your dreams to come true... wife... two kids. I can't give you any of that, and I can't... no I won't take it away from you Sam, not for anything." The ache

in the pit of his stomach blossomed, bled out. Dean felt like he was gonna be consumed by it, frozen on the inside like he had been on the outside.

There was something in Dean’s voice that made Sam’s heart skip a beat. His brother had thought about all this, been beating himself up with the idea that it was him who was preventing Sam from having the ‘white picket fence’, and the perfect life. Suddenly Sam was glad they were in the cabin, glad the generator went out, he knew deep inside there was no way Dean would be talking to him like this if he had an option. Seeking his brother's eyes Sam shifted slightly. Those normally calm jade eyes were blazing, hard, like Dean was going to burn out, bolt.

"Dean? I never said ..." Sam made sure his voice was calm, steady, "I wanted kids or ...what the hell are you talking about? I wanna be happy..." he frowned, shaking his head slightly, "That's all." He tore his gaze away from Dean's unable to stand the pain he saw there. Resting his cheek against Dean's he smoothed his hair again, hand cupping the back of his brother's head. "I just want to be happy - I don't really care what that is. Don't I get to have a say in what happens?" His chest was so tight, aching, he was pretty convinced this was about as much hurt as he could take.

"Listen..." leaning back he focused on his brother's eyes his hand rubbing small circles on the small of Dean's back. "How about we just give ourselves some time... there are still a lot of things I want... need to say to you, talk to you about..." Sam blushed and shrugged a shoulder... "Need ma brother ya know?" Sam's tongue stole out of his mouth wetting his lips. He watched Dean's face, searching for a sign of how he felt, lips parted, almost touching his brother's.

So many emotions were battling inside him, Dean wasn't sure he could keep it together anymore. He was either gonna shout at Sam, or shut him out, maybe even leave the warmth of the bed. None of those options was a good one, not if he wanted to salvage their relationship, whatever of it remained. Lips pressed together, holding back any words that might slip out, that might fuck this up even more, he nodded. He wanted to leave it at that, but Sam was staring at him, waiting, just like he always did when he asked his opinion, or what they were doing next, or if he had permission to do something. He licked his lips, his tongue almost touching Sam's lips. "Need you too, bro. Need you," He nodded, and pulled his gaze away, turning his face. Hiding.

Sam let Dean have his space, well, he let him turn his head away - but he wasn't loosening his grip, no way, not now. He'd never seen Dean so affected by anything, so raw, it was like he was just split open right there in front of Sam's eyes. It hurt in a way - to see Dean so vulnerable, after all, he was the big brother, the maker of decisions, the control.

Realization began to dawn slowly on Sam though. This had been a trial for Dean, it hadn't been as easy as Sam might might have thought. Tenderness swelled in him, for the restraint that Dean had been struggling with for so long. He stroked his fingers over Dean's hair, laid a path of kisses over the top of his head. This man wasn't just his brother; had been more than that for a long time - but it was his brother who was suffering.

"I wanna tell you one more thing - then I'm done for tonight. Okay?" Sam waited for some kind of sign from Dean that this wasn't the last straw.

Dean pulled away slightly from the kisses and touches. He didn't fucking deserve this. No matter what Sam thought, or how skewed his vision of reality was, Dean was the older brother. This mess was on his shoulders, his. He wanted to, but couldn't even come up with a fix other than to try to ignore it... and look how well that had turned out. He shook his head, non committal like. He didn't want to talk anymore, there was already too much going on inside his head.

"You know how you say how proud of me you are? You say things like I grew up into a great guy and that I made better choices about things than you did - know how to speak from my heart? All those things that you say make me such a great person and that drive you crazy at the same time. I only had one person my whole life teaching me that stuff, showing me how to be a good man, Dean. It was you." Sam got comfortable, loosened his grip on his brother enough that Dean could leave if he really wanted to, but not enough that he would think he was being pushed away.

Words that should make Dean feel better, didn't. Sam was a good man, a boy to him always, but he was good to the core. It wasn't that way because of him, it was in spite of him. He held his breath, wondering if a response was absolutely necessary, and then Sam spoke again.

"Please be here when I wake up. That's all I want. Okay?" Sam breathed in the comforting scent of Dean's hair and closed his eyes.

"Okay." His fingers curled around Sam just slightly tighter. "Not going anywhere. I promised you this." Only he hadn't thought he'd be ambushed with Sam's questions in bed, or that it would cause this much havoc within him. Sam seemed to be handling it better, how did that work? Tomorrow... tomorrow in the light of day they'd get the rest of what Sam wanted to say out there, on the table, and then... Yeah, he wasn't counting his chickens.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean tried to move, to turn over, but something was holding him tight. He took a deep breath, ready to complain, but the complaint died on his lips. Sammy. Smelled like Sam, clean and fresh and musky... oh God he missed him, missed him so bad. If he were here... if they were back then... that summer, he'd roll over on top of Sam, just like this. Find his mouth, cover it with his, show him... show him no one could make him feel like this... just like no one else could make Dean feel like this.

 

It was morning. At least, that's what Sam's brain was trying to tell him. _Dean's voice_. He opened one eye, groaned, his arm was asleep under his brother... who was... moaning, whispering, eyes fluttering. He was dreaming. Opening his other eye Sam shifted as much as he could and pulled his arm out from under the covers. "Hey..." he whispered, rubbing the backs of his fingers on Dean's cheek. He loved watching Dean sleep, in the summer, he'd always woken up before his brother and laid there staring at his face. The only time Dean had looked peaceful was in the morning, with Sam curled up against him on those summer mornings. "Dean? It's morning....." he leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth. He loved that spot. He'd never told Dean but he thought of it as _his_ , just that one spot - he wasn't greedy.

 

"Wake up, Dean." Much as he hated the idea of moving, they had a generator to fix.

 

The press of warm lips against his, just how and where Sammy liked to lay them on him registered through the fog of sleep. Licking his lips and tasting Sam, Dean was swamped by an overwhelming need to taste him again, to prove to himself this wasn't yet another dream. Raising his hand, he instinctively cupped the back of Sam's head and pulled him down, closer, moving his own face so that their mouths fit perfectly. Tasted like Sam, felt like Sam, kissed like Sam... hell, Dean's eyes fluttered open, his tongue still playing inside Sam's mouth. 

 

It was hard not to give in, maybe he did a little, he did. Sam's mouth moved over his brother's as easy as it always had, his tongue meeting his brother's without hesitancy. But ... then the image of Dean from the night before flowed back in to Sam's mind; Dean so hurt, so confused.... out of control. Sighing Sam pulled back a little. "Come on, sunshine, we've got work to do." He grinned down at his brother, fingers still trailing over the stubble on his face.

Dean stared at him, then down at their bare chests, then took in the fact they were naked... completely. He moved his knee up, and felt it touch Sam's cock, his heart ramming into his chest with the realization. He turned his face, nipping Sam's finger, then locking gazes with him. "I guess flipping you over isn't a good idea... you're no dream." He wished it was, a guilt free dream where he could be happy. 

The breath whooshed out of Sam's lungs. "No dream..." he gasped out, shifting his hips slightly away from Dean. His hand fell away from his brother's face coming to rest on his chest. He could feel Dean's heart thumping in his chest. "I... don't..." Sam frowned, a V appearing in the middle of his forehead, "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Dean." Last night - Dean hadn't even been able to look at him; Sam didn't want to be the cause of that. He wished Dean's body, warm, hard, perfect, didn't feel so good underneath his.

"Ditto," Dean rasped, burying his face in Sam's neck and trying to get control over his body. His brother's scent surrounded him, his warmth was pressed against him and this was just the most ridiculous position to be in if you were trying to avoid sex. His jaw started to pulse. "But I am not a saint. I swear to God, if you're not off me in thirty seconds... twenty nine," he gripped Sam tight for a second, wanting to memorize how well they fit together. "Twenty fucking eight seconds..."

Sam looked down at Dean's flushed face, the tense line of his jaw. Leaning down he pressed his lips to _his_ spot, "is that twenty-six?" He ran his tongue along Dean's bottom lip eyes fixed on his brothers. He shrugged slightly, "twenty-two or so?" He moved quickly, sliding down and burying his face in Dean's neck sucking hard on the sensitive skin there, drawing the blood up close to the skin. When his lips released his brother's tormented flesh he licked the discoloration slowly, painfully slowly. "Eighteen...." he mouthed against Dean's Adam's apple. "Guess I'd better move."

Dean wanted to growl when Sam's mouth touched him _there_ again, mocking him with his own countdown. His gaze locked with his brother's, recognizing the challenge within them, tensing... and rightfully so since he was now sucking on him, maybe leaving a bruise. Then Sam's open mouth was teasing his throat, Dean swallowed. Eighteen, hell yes, he better fucking move. But Sammy didn't, he pushed the envelope, staying in his arms, torturing him. Frustration and desire were an explosive combination. A shout welled up in his throat, only it never came. He was right back to last summer when they'd teased the hell out of each other in this exact bed.

Sliding his hands down Sam's sides, then over his ass, cupping his cheeks as he lifted up, Dean whispered "fourteen." Oh God... it was morning, and his dick was already so fucking hard he hadn't needed this to send more blood surging into it. He moved his mouth over to Sam's ear, dipping his tongue inside, knowing it drove Sam crazy. "Eight... baby brother, you got eight fucking seconds... tick tock ... tick ... tock..." 

Shivers rolled down Sam's body; Dean always knew where to touch him, how to move against his body. His hand moved, drifted across Dean's ribs, down his side, thumbs digging into the tender flesh of his hip. He rolled off his brother onto his back, breathing hard. Reaching for Dean's hand he threaded his fingers through his brother's, holding on tight. There was no way he was pushing Dean this time, that's probably why things had go so badly in the fall. Sam knew when he wanted something and Dean could give it- his big brother really couldn't say no. This time, Sam wouldn't push, but, yeah, he wasn't letting go of Dean's hand either. He tightened his hold on Dean's hand, biting down hard on his bottom lip, tasting blood.

Oh God, Dean turned to look at Sam, questions filling his eyes. Yes or no... why did everything have to be a gray area? His brother rolled off him, but not out of bed, stopped kissing and teasing, but held his hand... tight. What was he to make of that? What?

His chest rose and fell. He blew out a hot breath, got up on his elbow and leaned over Sam. His gaze dropped to his brother's lips, bottom one caught between his teeth. Irresistible. Groaning, he lowered his head and melded their mouths together, kissing Sam long and hard, putting all of his emotions, his love, his fears, his needs, all of it into the kiss. By the time he pulled away, both their mouths were swollen. Pulling Sam's hand, fingers still entwined with his, up to his mouth, he kissed his knuckles. "I never wanted to be _someone else_ more than right now." He saw hurt or some other emotions creep into his brother's eyes, and shook his head 'no.' "Nothing would stop me then, Sam. Nothing." Bending down, he kissed him again, this time tasting a little salt. "It was easier back then, when we thought there'd be no consequences."

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, instantly feeling cold... and it wasn't just the lack of heat. 

Rolling on to his side, hand laying in the fading warmth left by Dean's body - Sam watched his brother's back. His heart was racing in his chest amped up by the momentary fear he'd had that Dean was leaving, his lips thrummed with the heat from their kiss and he was so hard it was almost painful. Reaching up he traced his index finger down Dean's spine, stopping at the small of his back, flattening his palm. "When we were here before," he was almost whispering, "when you were asleep and we had rolled apart I would put my hand out in the dark, flat against your back like this - to feel you breathing, know you were there." He wished he could see his brother's face. "As long as you were _there_ I knew everything was okay." He let his hand fall back to the, now cold, bedsheets. 

Dean held his breath, head tilting slightly back, emotions running amok again. He wasn't stupid, he was pretty well tuned with his brother and he knew Sam wasn't only talking about the past. 

"We should fix the generator or we'll freeze to death over Christmas....now _that_ would be tragic," Sam said. His chest ached so he wrapped his arms around himself, brought his knees up and burrowed down further under the quilt. "I'm just gonna... need a few minutes." He turned his face into the pillow. Everything always felt so much better when he was touching Dean, worse as soon as he moved away.

Needing to combat the cold, Dean bent over and grabbed a tee shirt off the floor. One of Sam's, but he wasn't about to go inside to get his. He finally spoke, though he didn't turn around. "I'm not leaving Sam. We're gonna have that talk. We're gonna figure this... this out, alright?" He turned now, reading need and worry in his brother's face, feeling it like it was his own. "And if dad gets here before... before we talk, then you and I have a date on the way out of here. We'll get it done. I told you last night, I don't want to lose my brother either."

Sam nodded and watched Dean get dressed and leave the room. It was progress wasn't it? They lived through the night and no one left? No one hurt anyone? At least not intentionally. _It had to be progress_.

Sam stood at the door bundled up in his parka, a scarf, gloves, and boots feeling like a five year old getting ready to walk to school. He watched as Dean stuffed things in his pockets he thought might help with the generator. If anyone could fix the damn thing it was Dean - his brother had a special penchant for working with anything mechanical; Sam was pretty convinced he just persuaded things to work, moving his hands just the right way over the metal. _Whoa_ It was hot enough inside the jacket already. Feeling the sweat start to trickle down the small of his back, Sam wiggled inside his coat. "Dude - I gotta go outside or I'm gonna freakin' melt. I'm wearing everything I own. Are you almost ready?"

Looking up and seeing the scarf around Sam's neck, Dean's face lit up with an incredible smile. Seeing Sam bundled up like that, memories flooded Dean's mind. His little brother dressed for school, having trouble with the scarf, then complaining it was too hot and that he looked like one thing or another. "Do me a favor?" He raised his eyebrows up. "Get on your knees and say 'weebles wobble, but they don't fall down'... just once... come on Sammy, for me..." Grinning, he avoided a swat and got the hell out the front door.

This time he had a flashlight with him, and he waited for Sam as they made their way through the white out. "Sonova..." Even before they reached the shed, he was freezing his ass off.

It had been easier to appreciate the beauty of the snow from inside, _much_ easier. Resisting the urge to hang on to the back of Dean's jacket, Sam stumbled and shivered his way through the snow stepping in Dean's footprints. He kept careful count in his head of how many steps it was .... twelve from the front door to the car, another fourteen good sized paces to the shed. _Christ_ it was cold out here. No wonder Dean had come in last night frozen solid. Because he was feeling a little sorry for Dean nearly freezing to death he managed to refrain from laughing out loud when Dean walked head first into the shed. "Visibility is quite bad," Sam grunted through chattering teeth with a grin on his face he was sure Dean couldn't see.

"Thanks for pointing it out," Dean walked in, came back out and yanked Sam inside. His every breath left a mist hanging in the air. Pulling his flashlight out, he passed it to Sam and walked to the generator. When he put his hands on it, the cold birned clear to his bones. "If this doesn't work, we're stuck here without power." He stated the obvious, since they'd listened to the radio report over breakfast. The chances of their dad making it were now nil.

Sam tried to keep the light steady but he was shaking so bad it was wobbling about while Dean was trying to work. Sam lips were pressed together as he attempted to stop his teeth from chattering. "Gggguess we'll bbe cooking on the ffire. Do we need mmmore firewood?" He could cut some later, hell, if he could find a tree. The wind was whipping around the shed, howling through the windows and Sam figured they hadn't seen the worst of the storm yet.

"Nah... there's some stacked up outside the cabin. Sonovabitch," he twisted the nut harder. "Frozen. Might need hot water, which we don't have." He tried again, this time stepping on the wrench, jamming his foot down hard until it turned. Smiling, he dropped down to the ground, blowing hot breath into his hands before he started to work again. He was stubborn, damned stubborn, but a half hour later they were both in danger of hypothermia. "Not happening." He got up and slapped Sam on the back, "lets get outta here, you alright?"

"GGggood." Sam nodded and tried to flick the flashlight off without taking off his gloves, they might need the batteries later. About fifteen minutes ago Sam had started shivering uncontrollably; even wearing the warmest things he had he was frozen to the core. Californian clothes weren't much help. He stumbled toward the door and pushed it open, squinting in the bright snow. He waited for Dean to get outside, kicked the shed door shut and grabbed on to the back of Dean's jacket.

Dean smiled, though it hurt his face. Then he started heading back, trying to make sure he walked in a straight light. It wasn't even worth trying to talk, the wind snatched the words right out of your mouth. When they got pasted the car and stumbled up the stairs, he gripped Sam's arm and pulled him along until they were inside and stomping their feet to get the snow off and to get some warmth into their feet. "It's fuckin' Alaska..." Walking toward the fire, Dean peeled the heavy jacket off and rubbed his arms. "Whiskey? And don't get on me about it being early, it's medicinal."

"Yyyes." Sam was struggling with the zipper on his coat; tempted to just curl up on the couch fully clothed. It had been a very long time since he'd been _this_ cold. Sam fought with his boots until them came off and finally managed to get his coat undone. He realized he couldn't even feel his fingers; his gloves weren't the best. He sat in front of the fire, tucking his hands in his armpits, shivering, tucking his chin down in the collar of his sweater.

Sam didn't look alright. Bringing the whole bottle over and drinking as he walked, he passed it to Sam. Dropping down at Sam's feet, he went to work, rubbing Sam's legs, calves and feet. "We better keep this fire going, and maybe bring the bed in here tonight." The bed. He hadn't said beds. He glanced up, then back down as he moved to Sam's other leg. "Temperature's gonna keep dropping."

Dipping his head to hide behind his hair, Sam smiled when Dean mentioned bringing the bed in the living room. In the summer they would fall asleep sometimes in the front room, with the doors and window wide open - lying there in the breeze. A particularly strong shiver brought Sam back to the present. He discovered that trying to drink without smacking his teeth with the bottle was a challenge. The whiskey burned Sam's throat and he coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Tthanks," he muttered, "I can get some more wood later, there's a stack at the side of the ppporch. Just gotta warm up first." Sam watched the whiskey slop up the sides of the bottle in his trembling hand and shrugged, grinning at Dean. "I'm a Californian now."

"No, you're keeping your 'Californian' ass inside," Dean countered. "Good thing I brought hot dogs... or don't 'Californian's' eat those," he asked with a smirk. Sam had always been the one to eat healthier. "I dunno, barbecued broccoli... just doesn't seem right. How's this feel?"

"Good" Sam looked away feeling a flush creeping onto his cheeks. It always felt good when Dean touched him; didn't really matter what he was doing or why. Sam took another gulp out of the bottle. "I'll eat anything as long as it's warm." He put the bottle down on the hearth, "I better take it easy on that stuff." He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "You okay? you warm enough?" Everything felt so normal all of a sudden, so _not-broken._

"Yeah, I'm fine." He got up and sat next to Sam, "gimme your hands."

Turning towards his brother, Sam put his hands out. "Why ya bein' so nice to me?" he grinned at his brother, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Am I?" Dean raised a brow as he rubbed his brother's hands between his, noticing not for the first time how much softer Sam's hands were. "First the flowery shampoo, now the soft hands ... don't tell me, they got you using sunscreen, don't they?" he mused. When he looked up again, there was something in Sam's eyes, that old look that they used to exchange as they teased. He grinned. "Anything else you want me to rub? It's a fire sale, going once... twice..."

Sam laughed, throwing his head back, "I"m good thanks." Still chuckling he turned Dean's hands over in his, feeling the scars on his brother's palms, running his thumbs along them. "My hands are softer, because I've never had to work as hard as you do." Holding the sides of his brother's hands he rubbed the heels of the rough palms with his thumbs, warming them and working the muscles at the same time. "I just hold books and pens all day, type, you do all the hard stuff." His bangs drifted back over his eyes again.

"You study until you go blind, analyze the hell outta shit and keep all the stuff you read in your head. One day you're gonna wear a three piece suit, the kind we usually steal," he snorted, but a part of him ached. "You'll get yourself a nice office, cause you deserve it... you're the hard worker Sam. I just... I just kill things." He pulled his hands free, and took the bottle, "but just as long as we're both on the same side... I'm good with that," he said pointing with the bottle, before taking a swig.

The smile faded a little from Sam's face. Dean could never let anyone just think he was _good_ , let anyone love him. "You do a lot more than that," he muttered under his breath, knowing it wouldn't matter. Dean never believed him. A drop of whiskey on Dean's lip caught the glare from the fire and glinted, without thinking, Sam lifted his thumb and wiped it away. He let his hand fall to Dean's chest, "you're a good man, Dean, I'll just keep telling you until you believe it."

He'd instinctively been about to catch Sam's finger in his mouth, and barely stopped himself. "And you, little brother..." he was reminding himself, "still like playing with fire. I'm gonna get that firewood. 

Sam withdrew blinking at Dean's harsh words. He rubbed his hands on his jeans and stood up, "Okay..." his brow furrowed and he squeezed the bridge of his nose between his finger, "I'll just... " he shrugged, "get my stuff... or something." He took off down the hallway, just wanting to be out of the room. As he walked into the bedroom he grabbed his clothes from the floor and started folding them and putting them back in his duffel. He decided he was going to talk to Dean as soon as possible so that he could be ready to go the moment the weather cleared enough to get the cars out.

"Sam. Sam..." Dean looked away from a moment and followed him inside, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around. "It was a joke. It was." He let go, and gave him a 'grow up' look. 

Sam shrugged, his face blank, and bent down to pick up the clothes he had dropped. "I know," he said, packing his stuff away. "Better get that firewood before it gets even worse out there. I'm just gonna get my shit organized. Wanna have something to eat soon?" He stuffed some clothes into his bag.

Without answering, Dean walked out. If Sam was in one of _those_ moods, he'd just have to wait for it to blow over. He swore Sam was a girl, and that in there... that was Sam PMSing. Grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on, he went out to bring the wood in as quickly as possible.

It was late afternoon. They were laying across from each other on a blanket they'd put in front of the fire, and were playing poker. Sam had questioned him about recent hunts, and Dean had given him some of his stories, exaggerating here and there, and knowing his brother wouldn't expect anything less of him. At first, he thought he might bore Sam, but he never looked disinterested, and added some deep thoughts about stuff that had happened to Dean or which might be of use during future hunts. Then he'd asked Sam about school, which lead to talk about his friends, which lead to Jess's name.

They both went quiet after that, for a while. Dean knew that 'the conversation' was brewing. It was just a matter of time.

"So..." Sam's mouth was a bit dry, " the stuff with me and Jess." He cleared his throat and sat up crossing his legs. "I'm just gonna lay it all out, because I don't know how else to do it." He looked over at Dean waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

"Hold on," Dean dropped the cards and looked up. "Before we do this, you _promise me_... no matter what happens, what is said, no one walks away. And I don't meant now, tonight. I mean... What I mean is we're still in each others' lives, no matter what... or this isn't happening."

Sam nodded, knowing full well this would be the easiest answer he would give all evening. "No matter what." 

Sam rested his arms on his knees. "In the fall, after you left, I... guess...well, I fell apart and I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. It's not about you." He glanced over at Dean then dropped his eyes to his lap. "After you and I," Sam blew out a long breath and closed his eyes for a few moments. 

Dean wiped his hand over his mouth and jaw, a nervous habit... one that helped him to keep quite and listen to things he didn't want to hear. He didn't want to know how bad it had been for Sam, how broken he'd left him. He had a feeling, but hearing it made it ten times worse.

"After the summer, I thought you and I made the right choice. I couldn't see how we could be ... together .... I knew you didn't think it was right and I know you will find this hard to believe but when you say something ...." he shrugged, "it's like it's true." He wrung his hands together. "Things were okay then, I met Jess, she was great - and for a while I thought I could forget. Then when you showed up this Fall, it was all too much."

"I had to come," Dean said softly, knowing it might have been better if he hadn't. Better if he'd worked on their relationship by phone and emails. The rest, even searching his brother's face, he didn't understand. Yes he'd said they couldn't be together and Sam had agreed... obviously, but what did he mean his word was 'like the truth.' 

Sam looked up at his brother, "after you left, I couldn't _be_ with Jess... it just felt wrong. Felt like I was cheating on her, you, fuck I don't even know." Sam shook his head and picked up the whiskey bottle taking a few gulps. Eyes watering from the burn he coughed and continued. "She knew something was going on, said she knew I loved someone else. Said she could see it in my eyes." Sam scratched his nose, looking into the fire, eyes far away, "I argued with her about it - but," he huffed out a laugh, "I'm not a very good liar."

Reaching, Dean took the bottle from Sam and took a couple of damn long pulls, letting the liquid burn down to his stomach. Setting it down, he rolled to one side and then sat up, paying attention, but real troubled. Maybe if he hadn't gone... maybe... and maybe not. 

"So - when she found out about the invite for me and you - a Winchester Christmas - she said I should talk to you about it. She said I'd been really miserable since you left; had convinced herself you and I had a big fight over something." He looked back at Dean, face masked, unreadable. "She said that when I come back I have to know what I want... if I want her - I come back whole-hearted - ready to love her. If I can't do that - I go back to her as her friend." Sam blinked slowly. "Either way, I think I'm lucky to know her." 

Sam paused. "That's where you come in, Dean," he stared into his brother's green eyes, wishing for the thousandth time he could read his brother's mind.

"Uh uh, that is _not_ where I come in Sam," he countered, eyes narrowing. "I don't know how you feel about her. Really feel. I know what I saw... what I thought I saw. Perfect couple... loving," a muscle in his jaw started to pulse as he recalled the picnic and Sam pulling Jess onto his lap, she cares about you, you said she grounds you, and you've talked about the future... together. THAT doesn't have anything to do with me. Do you love her?" he asked, though the question fucking killed him. "When you think about her, does if feel like your heart is about to fuckin' explode? That if you knew you'd never see her again, you'd die... or you wouldn't care if you lived? Huh? Does it kill you to think you might never kiss her, never move your hands down curves you'll never forget? Is her voice the first sound you wanna hear in the morning, and the last at night?" He licked his lips. "Answer's simple, Sam... if you feel like that, then go for it. And if not... then she's just... just like one of the girls I pick up at bars, a fun time, a nice girl, but soon to be yesterday's news."

He could see the wheels grinding in Sam's head, so he reached for the liquor again. Cradling the bottle for a moment, he took a swig, his eyes never leaving Sam's.

Sam tore his eyes from his brother's. "She's a good person, and a better friend than I deserve. She'll never be yesterday's news. That's a low-blow." He picked at the hem of his sweater, tugging on a thread. "And, no I don't feel that way ... about _her_." He swallowed around the lump in his throat, squeezing his hands into fists on the bottom of his sweater. He looked back up, meeting Dean's gaze. "What do you do if the person you feel that way about - doesn't feel the same way back?"

"It's not a low blow, it's reality... she goes from girlfriend to just friend status." He frowned at Sam's question. "You mean she feels like that about you and you don't? Well if you're YOU, you don't lie to her, and then she deals with it."

"No." Sam whispered. His knuckles were white, his fingers clenched so hard into his palms he could feel his nails digging into his flesh. "No," he said louder, "the person I feel that way about, doesn't feel the same way about me. I ... how do I live with that, Dean? How do I wake up knowing I'm not allowed to see the face I want to first thing when I open my eyes? How do I learn to forget what it feels like to be touched by someone I love so much it feels like my heart will tear apart every time they leave? How? Cause I don't know what to do anymore?" Sam stopped, trying to catch his breath.

At first, Dean had no clue what Sammy was trying to say, but when the realization hit him, his heart slammed against his chest. "No one dies of a broken heart, Sam." The heat of anger and emotion lit Dean's eyes the moment he felt trapped by his own fucking words. Feeling his brother's stare, he burst out. "And you don't know _that._ You don't know shit." Dean knew... he just knew this conversation had to end, right now. He cast his eyes towards the kitchen... it was approaching dinner time. 

Sam's eyes widened, "no one dies of a..." his eyes hardened. "You know what Dean? I should never have tried to talk to you about something like this." Sam pushed onto his knees wanting to get away from the whole mess for a while. "I'm done - I've got my answer. Just don't tell me I don't know shit -because ... " he took a shuddering breath. "I know what I feel, and I know ... I know... what... I know what I want and just because the person I want is too _fucking_ stupid to see that... doesn't mean that I don't know _shit_ " He snatched the bottle up off the floor and took a drink. "What do you want for supper, I'll make it." Hand shaking he stood up staring at the bottle in his hand.

"Well you don't." Dean held Sam's gaze. "You don't know shit about how _he_ feels." He could tell they'd be fighting over the bottle, maybe he should just get a fresh one. He ran his hand through his hair. "Listen, there are just... there are just some questions, problems, that have _no_ solution. And thinking about them just makes you crazy and gets you nowhere, alright?" There... it was out on the fucking table, what else did Sam want?

"You said he... " Sam's eyes were wide in the firelight. "So, you've known how I felt... how I felt about _you_ through all this ... shit ... we've been through and your words of wisdom are that there are some problems that have no solution?" Sam turned and started to walk out of the room his face colored by embarrassment, he paused at the doorway and turned to face Dean, "I'll make supper - don't come in the kitchen or I'll _punch_ you." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And, I don't want to talk about this again, _ever_ and I'll stick to your stupid promise about no one leaving because I love you too much to not have you in my life anyway, in spite, of the extraordinary effort you put into pushing me away." Tears spilled out onto his cheeks, "and Dean, don't you _ever_ touch me... like that... again. Ever. You want to be brothers. We're brothers. That's it."

Dean stood up, shouting. "I don't have words of wisdom, Sammy. Not for _this_ Goddamit. You think you're the only one? I don't know what to do with it either. I - don't - know. I got no answers. It fucking hurts, everyday, alright... does that make you feel better? I hurt too, but fact is we _are_ brothers. What the fuck do you think I can do about it? Huh." Catching sight of the tears glistening on Sam's cheeks he turned away, or he _would_ touch him. "Sometimes... sometimes you just gotta settle for second best, cause what's the alternative? Nothing. Gimme that." He took a step toward Sam and reached for the bottle.

Sam sniffed and wiped his face roughly and handed Dean the bottle. His shoulders sagged, it was at that moment he realized he had always held out a little hope that he'd be able to change Dean's mind. As far back as he could remember - if he'd wanted something Dean would give in - and now when it really mattered.... "Okay..." Sam wiped his face again, the room distorted by the tears already filling his eyes again. "I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again." His voice was soft, gentle and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. 

As he left the room he clenched his jaw and barely made it around the corner and into the kitchen before he had to slam his hand over his mouth. Pressing his face against the cool wall, he cried into his hands.

Dean waited exactly two minutes before walking in after him. Fuck... no... Physically turning Sam around, he pulled him into his arms, enveloping him as he crushed him against his own body. "No.... Sam... don't cry, please baby, please don't." He kissed him on the cheek, then on his wet eyelids, then he was just kissing him, mouth to mouth, everything forgotten. Hand slipping up Sam's throat, he cupped his cheek and kept kissing, showing him all the things he hadn't said, how much he loved him, needed him, wanted him. The reason he could never find anyone to love was that his heart had been given a long time ago, before he even realized it. Before last summer. "I'm sorry, so sorry Sammy..."

He let himself feel the kisses, his heart thundering in his chest. Then his hands slipped between them, coming to rest on Dean's chest, gently pushing him back. "It's okay, Dean." He pushed him a little further away, felt his brother's hand slip off his cheek "you don't have to try and give me what I want just because I'm upset. I'll live." He gave Dean a shaky smile.

Dean looked straight into Sam's eyes, aware that his own had watered up. "Yeah, you'll live. We both will. And for Christsakes Sam... you think I'd give you _this_ just because you want it? _This_ is because I can't fucking help myself, when I know better. It's because I lo..." His jaw pulsed. He thought about shutting down the conversations right there. It was only the pain in his brother's eyes that made him go on. "Because I love you, and Goddamit, how your observant steel trap of a mind fucking missed that, I don't know. I don't know, Sam."

Sam stilled, eyes snapping up to his brother's. There was so much honesty in Dean's eyes, hurt, guilt, longing, need, - _honesty_ Reaching out Sam grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt, the material bunching beneath his grasp. "You...?" He tugged Dean closer reaching a tentative hand to wipe his thumb through the tears on his brother's cheek. He moved closer, pressed up against Dean, breath coming in shallow gasps. He half expected Dean to move away as he brushed his lips over those salty tears, kissing them away.

Loosening his grip on the shirt, Sam let his hand slide down across Dean's stomach and over his hip. Digging his fingers in possessively, he groaned softly against Dean's cheek. "I....." his breath hitched in his chest, lips ghosting over his brother's face to his lips "Me too," he whispered against Dean's mouth "me too." Lips parted, breath puffing softly against his brother's lips, a sob catching in his throat, Sam kissed Dean. His hand dropped to his Dean's throat thumb rubbing softly, fingers possessive, claiming.

"I know... I know baby," Dean repeated between each light touch of their lips, holding Sam tight, knowing damned well that the way there were clinging to each other like this only meant more trouble, more heartache, but unable to let go. The only thing that counted, really counted in his life had always been Sammy. Sure he loved his father too, but he didn't _need_ him like he needed Sam. His dad didn't give him all that much to smile about, but when he was with Sam... the teasing, the friendship, the deep bond between them... it was amazing... something no one else would understand. "I know... just don't know what to do about it," he stared into hazel eyes for a second, then kissed him lightly, moving down to his throat and kissing him again, before he did something he would regret. 

Sam's fingers slipped up and threaded through Dean's short hair, holding his head close. Hooking his finger through Dean's belt loop, he kept him there; afraid that if he let him pull away things would fall apart again. His lashes fluttered closed and he breathed his brother in. "You don't have to have an answer for everything, you know." He buried his face in Dean's shoulder - the safest place; always had been.

Dean closed his eyes, leaning into Sam's touches, breathing in his scent, drinking in the heat of his body right through their clothes. He didn't know what they were doing here, hanging onto each other, swaying ever so slightly, just... just being with each other. It felt good. Strangely freeing. But he knew it would end, all good things did, didn't they? "Yeah I do," he answered, voice thick with emotion. "I wish to God that I did."

There were dangerous feeling stirring inside Sam; he swallowed and nestled his face into Dean cheek rubbing against his neck. His lips part of their own accord, pressing against the warmth of his brother's neck. "You're so warm," Sam whispered, lips brushing skin. He blew a gentle breath out, pressing small open-mouthed kisses along Dean's neck, dragging his lips along the skin in between. Closing his eyes he silently pleaded for Dean to stay, accept, wait, just a few more moments before he took it all away. Sam's bottom lip dragged wet and hot up to Dean's ear, he rubbed his lips ever-so-slightly back and forth and whispered, "I still want you."

"Sam..." He swallowed hard, trying desperately to deal with the emotions roiling through him. _I still want you_. "Jesus... Christ, Sam!" He pushed Sam suddenly, up against the wall, fists clenched tightly around his thin jacket, eyes blazing with the heat of passion. His gaze focused on Sam's lips, the temptation driving him up against a wall the same way he had his brother. "You know that this is _crazy_ right? And this never turns out well for us." 

Dean knocked the breath out of Sam when he pushed him into the wall; he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping he tried to get a lung full of air. When he managed to open his eyes once more Dean was right there, green eyes fiery. Sam struggled to stay on his feet, Dean's strong grip lifting him slightly. He licked his lips, bottom lip trembling. "I...." his voice was paper thin, dry, "I know." His hands swept over Dean's hips, fingers curling into denim. 'I know, I .. I'm sorry." He let his head thump back against the way, neck stretched, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm sorry, Dean." He tried to unclench his fingers but it just didn't work.

Every part of Dean's body touched his brother's, from his ankles to his thighs, to his hips, and to his chest. He could feel Sam's heart slamming, could feel him tensing, trying to maintain some distance and at the same time trying to pull him close. The same struggle played across Sam's face, and if Samr opened his eyes, he'd see that Dean was in the same place, fighting the sam battle. Goddammit... Goddammit no one should suffer like this... no one. Even as he tried to think of a way to detangle himself, he was dipping his head down, kissing Sam's throat, murmuring against it. "We're so screwed ... so damned screwed." His hunger, his need was unquenchable. With each new inch of skin that he kissed, he wanted more... just more. He ran his open mouth along the edge of Sam's jaw, tracing it... close... so close to his mouth. Fuck. 

Lifting his head, Dean whispered, "Sam?" 

Sam's eyes opened slowly, his head dropping down so he peered at Dean through his bangs. There was so much in Dean's eyes, it was beautiful, Sam had never seen so much need on his brother's face. The fight to hold back showed in Dean's tensed muscles, the subtle twitch in his jaw and the slight tremor Sam could feel. Lips puffing open, Sam gasped in a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And it was as though Dean gave in, Sam watched the surrender pass over his brother's face.... in that very moment. Sam felt the breath leave his brother, rushing past his own lips, then he was lost as Dean's lips met his, mouths open, wet, blistering. There was no urgency, lips moving softly against lips, tongues gliding past each other. Sam's fingers loosened, dangling from Dean's belt loops as he moaned softly into their kiss. His lashes fluttered back down to his cheeks as he sank into his brother's mouth, taking everything, slowly, peacefully.

When he thought about Sam, about holding him close, sex was always in the back of his mind. But this kiss, it was about love, pure and simple, and complicated as hell. It was about finding a a perfect soul mate under less than perfect circumstances. It was about knowing... accepting in his heart finally that what was blatantly wrong was right for him. For them. He might not have the words to tell Sam all this, he just wasn't hardwired that way, but he damned well showed him in the way he kissed, savoring, cherishing Sam... this moment. Their lips parted with a small sound, and then he lowed his mouth again, eagerly dipping his tongue inside, engaging Sam's in a dance they had down to an art.

By the time Dean pulled away, he didn't know if he was capable of talking. He just smiled, and wiped his thumb over Sam's lower lip. 

Sam couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. He tipped his head down letting his hair fall forward, rolled his bottom lip under his teeth and sighed out a small breath. He made a point of not letting go of Dean's belt loops. Tugging gently, he peered into Dean's eyes. "You hungry?" His grin widened, "I'm hungry."

"Yeah." His smile widened. "But it would be safer to eat... food. Besides... it's Christmas Eve. Gotta do something a little special, hmm?"

Sam shrugged. "We just did." There would be no getting rid of his grin for the rest of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam bounced around Dean in the kitchen like an idiot; Dean's words, not Sam's. He was happy,and felt like they both deserved a little happy. Sam hopped up on the kitchen counter while Dean tried to sort through the food they had. He had to use every bit of cooking skill he had to scare up something he could cook on the fireplace and that would be a little festive; Dean's idea, not Sam's. Sam muttered a lot about how cold it was in the kitchen, twice he tried to get his hands under Dean's sweater against his warm back, once he managed to trap Dean between his legs and pull him close enough to steal some warmth from his chest and once he was able to slip quietly off the counter and bury his face in Dean's warm neck. He was pretty sure Dean let him, there didn't seem to be much of a struggle. They gathered up the ingredients for Dean's impromptu Christmas Eve dinner and moved to the living room to finish the preparations on the hearth near the fire; Sam's suggestion, not Dean's.

While Dean chopped up some hot dogs and red pepper, Sam leaned back against his brother's side and stabbed the chunks of food on some skewers they salvaged from one of the kitchen drawers. There was already some soup churning away in a slowly blackening saucepan. Sometimes, they would catch each other, watching, wondering what the other was thinking and they would smile and go back to what they were doing. The room was filled with the sound of Sam's voice as he told Dean about his classes, how he wanted to travel and actually missed the days he'd spent in the Impala. The fire was popping and snapping; and Dean told Sam about some of the best hunts of the year - he probably exaggerated - those were the parts that Sam loved the most anyway.

As supper was cooking the brothers wrestled the mattress off the bed and brought it out into the living room. They managed it without too much difficulty although there was a fair amount of swearing from Dean. When the mattress finally hit the floor Sam went with it - face down - laughing and coughing in the dust kicked up from the cabin floor. Dean shook his head, waving the dust away and smiling down at his brother, a dopey look on his face; Sam's description, not Dean's.

It was warm and Sam was struggling out of his sweater by the time the food was ready. Backs facing the fire they yanked the bite sized morsels off the skewers and laughed while they ate. The soup was good, warmed them to the core and the skewers eventually became weapons in a short-lived battle to claim the side of the bed closest to the fire. Dean won but Sam had plans for a coup.

It was late evening, the snow had slowed a little, the wind still whistling through the old window frames. Dean had stuffed a blanket up against the front door of the cabin to try and block out some of the cold air. Sam was sprawled on the mattress, head on Dean's hip reading an old mystery novel he had found holding up one leg of the kitchen table. He rested the book on his chest, "Hey you want some cookies? I could use some dessert." He sat up and rubbed his eyes, dried out by the heat of the fire.

Lost in his thoughts as he sat on the mattress staring at the flames blazing brightly in the fire place that they'd carefully kept fed with firewood, Dean was startled to hear Sam's voice, and even more startled to fine he'd been stroking his hair. Dropping his hand, he looked over. Jessica's cookies. Any other time, the prospect of dessert, especially home made cookies, would have him all but bouncing with excitement and staking his claim first. "Sure. Something sweet sounds good."

Crawling across the mattress Sam grabbed the bag of cookies and held the corner of it between his teeth, grabbed the candle on the table and crawled back to Dean's side. "Here," he mumbled around the plastic, "Light this." He handed the candle to Dean and grabbed the bag of cookies; opening it with glee. "I love cookies." He grabbed one and munched away happily holding the bag out for Dean.

It was quite dark in the room if you weren't facing the fire, though Dean didn't mind it. Reaching for his jacket, he grabbed his lighter and lit the candle, setting it on the coffee table. "You do, huh?" Between the two of them, Dean was the one with the sweet tooth, but Sam could'a gotten one in college. He reached into the bag, and pulled one out, sniffing it. He took a bite and almost reluctantly admitted, "it's good. No wonder you've got a belly showing." Since Sam had obviously been working out, that would get to him.

"A what?" Sam sputtered sending cookie crumbs down the front of his shirt. He tugged his shirt up and patted his belly, sucking his stomach in and clenching his abs. "This is all muscle," he grinned at his brother, "feel!!!" Walking forward on his knees, he stopped in front of Dean.

"That right there... flirting," Dean pointed out with a knowing look, though he was game and smacked him in the belly. Course Sam's skin was stretched taut over muscle, just like he'd said. Just like Dean already knew. "You gonna make me feel your biceps next?" That was something Sam used to do all the time, when he was trying to prove he was as tough as him and dad.

"S'not flirting - it's simply proving a point." Sam shoved his shirt sleeve up and made a fist, flexing the muscles in his arm. "See? Go on! Feel it."

Dean gave a snort. "That's one way to get felt up. Must be a college boy trick, does it work?" Since he was pinching Sam's bicep, though he was doing it hard and trying to get him to cry uncle, he assumed it worked.

"Ouuuch, Jesus Dean!!! quit it!!" Sam tugged his arm free and rubbed the sore spot. He frowned, nose wrinkled and sat back on his heels. Sam's gaze drifted back to the bag of cookies and his fingers hesitated over the small neat printing on the bag before he opened it and took out another cookie. He reached out offering it to his brother, a wistful smile on his face.

"Nah, I'm good." He could tell Sam was missing her. Telling himself that it was alright, that it was as it should be was no help at all. "Unless that's my Christmas present. It's almost midnight. Must be a Winchester Christmas... we don't even have a tree." Well he'd always tried to have something that could serve as a tree, or he'd bring a discarded one home the day after Christmas, but Sammy had quickly gotten too smart to be tricked about the date.

"I totally forgot!", Sam leaped to his feet, grinning, and sped off down the hall returning in a few minutes with a square package looking suspiciously like a magazine wrapped in a grocery bag. Kneeling back down beside Dean he held it out, "Merry Christmas Dean."

"You wrapped it, you shouldn't have," Dean smiled as he took it. They hadn't done this in so long, ever since Sam had proclaimed Christmas was stupid, or something. He tore the thick paper and grinned. "Busty Asian Babes... you remembered." As he started to flip through it, a leather strap fell onto the mattress. He picked it up and looked at his brother with a raised brow.

Sam scratched his forehead, looking down at his lap. "I made it... " he blinked up at Dean, "it's not much... turn it over." He grabbed Dean's hand and turned it gently so he could see the back of the wrist band. "I put protection symbols on the back... and that..." he leaned forward pointing to some small precise lettering, "cor unum" he murmured. His fingers curled gently over Dean's wrist, "it's latin ... it means 'one heart'. It's not much, I know...but... I wanted you to have something I made."

"You... made it." Licking his lips, Dean looked at the symbols which he recognized, and then glanced up at his brother, his heart flip flopping like a damned teenager's. "One heart." There was the freakin' lump in his throat again. Fearing what Sam might see in his eyes, Dean quickly pulled him into his arms in a hug, slapping his back. "Thank you... like the amulet... won't take it off, Sammy. Ever." As he pulled back, he had the incredible urge to kiss Sam.. "I didn't know you ah... had that kinda talent." Looking down, he started to fasten the leather bracelet around his wrist.

Smiling Sam grabbed the bracelet pushing Dean's hand out of the way and fastened it, running a finger over the top of the band. "To keep you safe," he nodded firmly, "because... I can't." He squeezed Dean's hand and pulled away, eyes wide and glassy in the firelight. "I"m glad you like it." Sam picked up the cookie again, looked at it for a moment and put it on the hearth.

"You've never given me anything I didn't like." He smiled then gave a bitter laugh, "can't say that goes both ways. Probably won't like this either." Pulling off the mattress, he went to the duffel bag and came back with a small blockbusters bag. "Merry Christmas."

Sam chuckled. Dean's presents were nothing if not entertaining. He'd kept every strange and ridiculous thing his brother had ever given him. He took the bag and reached in pulling out a DVD. He nodded slowly and laughed, "You got me Porn!" he flipped it over and burst out laughing as he read a small note stuck to the case. " Because I like this kind of stuff? - How sweet I got Gay Xmas Porn!" He grinned at his brother. "Thanks, Dean."

"It's what you picked for Bring Your Own Porn Night," he pointed out. "I shoulda..." he touched the bracelet. "I didn't think. Honestly, I didn't expect you to show." He licked his lips. "I guess I owe you another gift. I got a couple cool tee shirts you can choose from, and they'll show off your... what did you call it? 'All muscle' belly. Or... I don't know. What would you like? An all inclusive ride in the Impala instead of that clunker outside?"

"That's easy ... if you really mean it?" he held Dean's eyes with his own for a few moments.

Dean cocked his head, waiting

"I want one night with you, no worries, no hesitation or thinking about tomorrow. No trying to protect me or do the right thing. One night where you just do what you want... with me. You know... if you meant it." Sam pressed his lips together, shrugged a shoulder and looked into the fire.

"Sammy..." Just like that, Dean 's voice went thick with emotion. This was what his brother wanted. Of everything he could have asked for, he asked for a night. He stared at Sam's unmoving profile for a while, hardly breathing himself. One full night, no guilt, no brakes... just them. He licked his suddenly dry lips as he turned it over in his mind. Could they do this? Hooking one arm behind and around Sam's head, cupping the side of his cheek, Dean leaned forward so he was almost but not quite in front of Sam, their lips almost touching. He brushed his lips against this brother's soft, scarlet mouth. "Sounds more like a present to me, Sam. If you can handle it... I can." Closing his eyes, he touched his mouth to Sam's again, this time sucking lightly on his lower lip, then pulling back.

Sam's eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed, his hands slid down his thighs and he sighed... leaning forward slightly, chasing Dean's mouth as he withdrew. His eyes fluttered open and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I can ... handle it, Dean." He licked his lips and leaned forward, resting his neck against his brother's arm. One night. "I can absolutely handle it." He sounded convinced. He wasn't really lying, but he didn't care. Clumsy with need he pushed into Dean's chest, hands grabbing blindly at his brother's chest, hips, anywhere he could reach. So long. "Dean..." he crushed his mouth against his brother's, moaning softly.

"Right here, right here baby." Arms closing around Sam like steel bands, Dean drew him up hard against his body and stood up, pulling Sam with him as he stepped back closer t the warmth of the fire. Mouths welded together in a series of long, mind-drugging kisses, Dean explored Sam, his hand stroking, squeezing, fingers digging into his brother's back, his sides, his ass, molding him closer as every part of his body touching Sam started to vibrate with awareness. This was what Sam did to him, did to him like no one else could.

Sam's movements began to slow under Dean's touch; the familiar feel of strong, rough hands, His body responded without question, knowing, he arched into his brother's chest then collapsed against him, fitting perfectly, right. Warmth flooded through his veins, his hands moving over Dean's back in small circles, long strokes searching for old scars, short strokes mapping the new new ones. He would kiss them all later, run his tongue over each piece of pale raised flesh. He knew he would.

As their kissing got more heated, their groping more urgent, Dean moved his mouth to Sam's throat, kissing, licking, then catching his adam's apple between his teeth. When he pulled his head back, he found himself staring into passion glazed hazel eyes. "Ever heard of a siren, Sam?"

Lips twitching into a smile, Sam hummed a quiet moan, eyes half-closed. His hand drifted to Dean's face, fingers trailing across his cheek, ghosting over his lips. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Dean's swollen lips, tongue darting out - a sound bubbled out of him a low rumbling growl....an almost purr ... and he shuddered in his brother's arms.

Like the pull of a magnet between them, they were suddenly all over each other again. Dean pushing Sam's over shirt off his shoulders, tossing it to the ground, his hands going to the hem of his teeshirt. Then he felt the sliver of exposed skin at Sam's belly, and groaning, brushed his palm over tight muscles, stroking him, exploring the hard planes of his chest as need course through him, sharper than ever.

Wordless sounds fell from Sam's lip in between kisses and gasps. His hands scrabbled against Dean's shirt, tugging and pulling ... he leaned back, arching over Dean's arms stomach muscles fluttering under his brother's palm. His whole body needed this, needed Dean's touch, his hands, his mouth. He pulled himself back up, abs tightening under Dean's hand, He shifted forward on his knees, hands sliding over the thin cotton of Dean's t-shirt. His eyes followed his hands, over the curves, the lines, the indentations of his brother's body beneath the material.

Slipping long, cool fingers under the hem of Dean's t-shirt he pulled it up and over his brother's chest, "off" he mumbled. He let out a small gasp as the firelight played over Dean's skin. He chewed on his bottom lip, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth beautiful but Dean would never believe it. He sat and stared, eyes moving over the beautiful colors of the flames on Dean's skin. Dean's eyes were wide and sparkling in the firelight, lips kiss-swollen. Sam couldn't resist running his thumbs gently over the very tips of Dean's long dark lashes, trailing his fingertips over freckles, tracing his brother's cheekbone. Biting down hard on his bottom lip, Sam let the pads of his fingers run along the line of Dean's jaw, ghosting over his lips.

Opening his mouth slightly, Dean kissed Sam's finger twice, following until they slid completely off his mouth. His heart banged against his chest as he stared at Sam, unable to shake the feeling his brother was admiring every part of him, loving him. He didn't really understand how Sam could be looking at him quite like this, but he accepted it as the present Sam had given to both of them tonight.

Letting one finger trail down the length of Dean's ribs Sam leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Dean's collar bone, biting his way along it, then licking up Dean's throat. Both of Sam's hands slipped around Dean's neck, tightening, his thumbs moving gently along his brother's windpipe. "I love you".

Smouldering green eyes met hazel. Dean might not have answered, but his love was there for Sam to see. He stood still for as long as he could, allowing Sam to run his hands over his shoulders and throat, and to move his mouth over him. Every touch burned just a little hotter as Dean grew more sensitive, more aware of his brother. When he couldn't stand it a moment longer, it was his turn to snap "off," as he dragged Sam's t-shirt off. Before Sam lowered his arms, Dean grasped his wrists above his head with one hand and slanted his mouth over his brother's in a fiercely possessive kiss that sent fire and ice through his veins each time their tongues tangled desperately together, each time they groaned, moved their bodies closer. Yeah he loved his brother. Loved him like a brother, and he loved him like this.

He turned slightly and walked Sam backwards toward the mattress, still holding his arms captive. "One night where I get to do whatever I want with you. Do you know what I want to do with you Sam?" So trusting, that was his Sam. "I want to make love to you, all night long. Like you belong to me."

A shiver ran straight down Sam's body, a wave of excitement and longing. Sam could only nod, not trusting his voice. Dean holding his arms, guiding him across the room, the things he said; everything felt out of Sam's control and he's never been more turned on by anything in his life. He was hard, achingly-so, just from the intent in Dean's voice - he was going to get the night he wanted. Tonight, Dean was his. His eyes fluttered closed and his body drifted closer to his brother's.

Moving his free hand between them, running it down Sam's chest and abs, all gentleness gone as he groped, and then cupped the bulge in Sam's pants. He squeezed a couple of times, watching Sam's face, then kissing him almost brutally as he rubbed his body against Sam's, satisfied that he could feel his brother hard and ready against him. As his tongue delved in and out of Sam's mouth, all he could think about was that Sam was his tonight. Breaking away, Dean took a couple of hot breaths, then pushed Sam down onto the mattress on the ground.

God he looked beautiful looking up at him like that, lips swollen, eyes glazed. "Unzip. Do it slowly." He was gonna memorize... remember this moment forever.

Jesus Sam swallowed, his jaw twitching Dean's eyes were burning into him, taking control silently. His hands were trembling as he rubbed them down his thighs slowly, pulling them back up to the waist band of his jeans. Never taking his eyes from Dean's he slid long slender fingers under the waist band running his hand back and forth across his quivering stomach. Slowly, deliberately he moved to the button, flicking it open. He gasped and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and started to pull his zipper down; Fuck he felt each click of the zipper on his swollen cock. His back arched ever-so-slightly as his fingers fell away from his zipper.

Dean nodded, just kept nodding as Sam did everything right. Wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, Dean put one of his knees on the on the mattress, leaned over Sam and pulled his jeans and shorts down as Sam lifted slightly. Getting off the make-shift bed, he gripped the bottom of the jeans and pulled them off with one strong tug. His eyes burned with hunger as he watched Sam kick the shorts off, then swept his gaze over every inch of Sam's flesh, lingering on his thickening erection.

Abruptly, as if he couldn't wait a moment longer, he straddled Sam's body, then dropped his weight over him, his mouth unerringly landing on his brother's in a hard kiss. When he felt Sam's hands seek him out, he grabbed each of them, threading his fingers through Sam's, holding them one either side of his head as they kissed. Just the simple act of kissing generated so much heat and electricity between them, Dean wasn't sure whether he'd survive a full night.

Sam's breath left his body the instant he felt Dean's weight on him. He strained against Dean's hold on his hands, his fingers curling tightly into his brother's. His tongue thrust up into Dean's mouth as their lips crushed together hard enough to bruise. Sam let out a deep groan as he tried again to tug his hands from Dean's grip; wanting to touch him. His hips twisted up into his brother's warm, hard, body and he caught Dean's bottom lip with his teeth holding him there for a few moments before licking his way back into his brother's mouth. "Fuck...Dean" he struggled against his brother, "lemme...touch..." he moaned into their kiss, hips bucking up slightly: really? He loved giving up control to his brother, letting him call the shots. He could see on Dean's face he wanted it, wanted him.

"You are touching me Sam, everywhere I touch you," Dean answered, the mere thought of how his brother wanted to touch him, how frustrated he must be, was so damned erotic. He couldn't bear the thought of this ending, ever, so he banished it from his mind. "And I'm gonna touch you all over, baby... all over," he promised in a low, velvet whisper. Putting his tongue out, he tangled it with Sam's outside their mouths, groaning when he forced himself to pull away and lowered his head to kiss Sam's throat and slowly move down his body.

Dean's words wove their way into Sam's mind, he stopped pulling on Dean's grip and settled into the mattress loving the rough denim of his brother's jeans against the sensitive skin of his shaft. His hips twisted again, when the tongues collided, sliding. Sam's breath came in small stuttering gasps, his fingers curling and uncurling over his brother's. So good. He was so hard he ached; his cock twitching and throbbing, matching every move his brother made.

With long sweeping strokes of his tongue, Dean tasted Sam's throat, feeling his pulse beating out of control, knowing it was for him. Moving lower, he traced the indentations of his muscles, every once in a while pressing his face down and sucking in taut skin... biting lightly. Fingers still laced tightly together with Sam's, he squeezed his brother's hands each time he thrust against him, and he could swear he felt a wetness seeping through his jean clad waist. Moving his body down slightly lower, he groaned as Sam's precum smeared across his belly. "Oh God... Sammy." He attacked Sam's nipple, licking circle's around it, then sucking hard on the sensitive flat nub.

Head thrown back, Sam felt his heart racing. His muscles quivered under Dean's lips, skin flushed with warmth; each time he felt his brother's teeth on his flesh his heart lurched, and hips twisted. "Dean..." he whispered, tongue running over his bottom lip. His chest arched up into Dean's mouth, his nipple hardening under his brother's tongue. His head rolled to the side, lashes resting on his cheeks and he sighed out a breath.

He heard a shadow of desperation in Sam's voice and it ratcheted up his own need, making it coil tighter in his belly, so fucking tight he might just forget about the teasing and get to business. No... no he wasn't wasting tonight like that. No way, not even if it killed him.

Dean lavished his attention on Sam's other nipple, then started a downward path, moaning as he felt Sam arch up each time he moved his head up or touched him too lightly with his tongue. He crawled down further, nestling now between Sam's legs, his face over his brother's hard cock arching up. Bringing Sam's hands down over his belly, pressing them down and releasing them, he started to lick his shaft, tasting him, remembering everything he'd learned about his brother last summer.

He couldn't help crying out when Dean's tongue ran over his cock, he was trying so hard to hold back, hold himself together. He could feel each touch all over his body shooting through his veins, drifting into his lungs. Dean.

Things had changed. Sam had more control now. He squirmed, he liked the same things, but he reacted slightly differently. It gave Dean a chance to learn him all over again. "You like your balls sucked, Sammy?" It allowed Dean to be different too, whispering dirtier things to him, only remembering for a second that his brother was still only seventeen. Wetting his tongue, he moved lower, swiping the flat of his tongue over Sam's velvety soft sac.

Sam bit down on his tongue, and moaned, his head pulling up off the mattress. "Yes..Oh God.... Dean.." He stared down at his brother, eyes wide, glazed, fingers threading through Dean's short hair. And under one sweep of that tongue he felt himself start to fall apart, so slowly it hurt. He hissed out a moan, throwing his head back so fast he was sure he'd snapped his neck, blood pounding at his temples. He spread his legs as far as he could ... pushing against Dean's thighs, moaning deep in his chest.

Dean licked him again, then pushing Sam's cock completely out of the way, sucked one half of Sam's sac into his mouth. He tongued him as he sucked, pulsing against him. Fuck, Sam was moving so desperately, lifting himself up, getting more pressure than Dean wanted to give at the moment. His brother was strong, and more demanding now. Dean wouldn't have it.

Sam nearly leaped out of his skin; he groaned and grabbed Dean's shoulder, twisting, his hips bucking up into his brother.

Getting off Sam, Dean smacked his thigh. "Roll over."

Dean's warmth was suddenly gone, and Sam struggled to focus his eyes. He was just about to complain about Dean leaving when he felt the sharp sting of his brother's hand on his thigh and the muscles in his stomach tightened sending waves of lust through his body. "Jessus Dean". But he rolled over, of course he did Seeing Dean like this, feeling his control over everything, his power, was intoxicating. There was no one else in the world Sam could do this with.

"Open your legs wide." When he saw his brother laid out, just waiting for him like that, Dean almost blew his wad. He quickly stripped off his jeans, tossing them aside, then he straddled his brother's wide back, facing down ward toward his ass. He ran his hands over his brother's muscular cheeks, kissing them, feeling them flex under his mouth. He licked his way down over the cleft of his ass just as he moved his arms over and under Sam's massive thighs, lifting him upwards, one hand closing around his shaft. As he lowered his head further and sucked on Sam's balls again, he started jacking him very slowly, deliberately alternating the motions of his mouth and hand so they were fluid, as if coming in waves.

Legs aching, Sam trembled like a fuckin' leaf, he was straining against Dean's weight, hips twisting and rolling side to side. He was so hard under Dean's hand, his movements stealing the oxygen right out of sam's lungs. As much as he could, he thrust forward into Dean's hand, back arching with each movement of Dean's mouth on his balls. God. Sam snapped his neck back down burying his face in the sheets, his yell muffled. He was going to lose it, if Dean kept doing that... he lifted his face and suck in great lungs full of air. "Deaan..." he groaned... hands shaking as he gripped the sheets on the bed.

"Just... just enjoy it," Dean answered, feeling how tightly the skin was stretched over Sam's balls now. He licked and sucked, and jacked him, getting harder by the moment as he pressed and rubbed his own leaking arousal against Sam's back, trying to brand every part of his brother. Running his tongue behind Sam's balls, he moved toward his hole, exposed to him in this position. He blew on his puckered hole, then tentatively licked, waiting to see if his brother would object.

Sam let out a string of swear words - some of which he was pretty sure he had invented based on how Fucking much he wanted Dean right at that moment. He kept feeling like one more touch and he would come all over his brother's hand...and then Dean would shift, slow, speed up and Sam's body would stutter and he'd pull back slightly from that edge. He couldn't even make sense of all the sensation anymore, warm breath, fingers, hands, slowly thrusting his cock against his brother's rough palm.

Dean brought his hand up from under Sam to pull his perfect ass cheek and started to push his tongue along the line of his finger pressing at Sam's hole, and then past it, inside him. So tight, so fucking tight around his tongue, he could imagine Sam around his cock. He was gonna do it, gonna fuck Sam this time... oh God, he just ... no he wasn't gonna think about wrong and right, he was just gonna think about how much they both wanted this, needed it. As he pushed his finger inside next to his tongue, he pulsed, licking, wetting Sam as much as he could, soothing him with it, then withdrawing just his tongue. "Relax baby," he whispered, kissing his ass as he watched his finger slide inside and out and fucked into Sam's back, like he was already inside him.

And then Dean's tongue inside him and Sam's head spun with pleasure. He arms straightened slowly, shaking pushing him up slightly from the mattress and further onto Dean's tongue. His back arched, shuddered then curved and his chest fell back down on to the mattress, muscles clenched around Dean's finger as it pressed into him. He struggled to catch his breath, panting. Relax. Shuddering he let his body loosen, placing all his trust in Dean. So easy. Dean was so hard against his back, hips pushing up, Sam's breath wheezed out in between the whiny, needy noises that ... he couldn't stop and he buried his face in his arms, covered his mouth.

As gently as he could, Dean worked a second finger into Sam, licking his sac, pumping his cock, whispering to him about how well he was doing, trying to distract him from any pain. He couldn't stand the thought of is brother hurting because of him, and yet... fuck, he needed him so bad he wasn't stopping this now. "That's it baby, you're doing good, so good. You're so fucking hot Sammy... just hot"... and in case his brother had any doubts, Dean's cock trapped against his back was proof of how affected he was by Sam.

Sam felt as though he was coming apart at the seams. Dean pushing into him so carefully; it stung and it felt incredible. He couldn't help the way he tried to push back against his brother's hand. Sam stretched his arms out toward the side of the bed, fingers splayed and shaking, back muscle tight, pulled wide.

He pushed a third finger inside, squeezing his eyes shut at the sight of his fingers disappearing into Sam's tight heat. Holy hell, he'd never thought they'd go this far, not ever. "Want to be inside you ... want to come inside you," he said, lifting off Sam's back, afraid he was about to come. Inside, that's where he'd come this time, and nowhere else. "Want you shouting my name... " He knew it was dirty, and wrong, but he fucking wanted it.

Breath hissing out between his lips; it hurt, it was good; Sam almost didn't hear Dean's words. As they sank into his mind he smiled, eyes wide, glassy, he turned trying to see Dean. "Please," he murmured, "please," it was what he had wanted for a long time. Fuck, he jacked off so many times thinking about Dean's cock deep inside him since the summer. Since those perfect days. Sam twisted trying to reach for Dean's hand, his leg, "please... want you so bad." When Dean's weight was gone from his back Sam turned on his side, eyes seeking his brother's. "Please," his voice was low, gruff, his hair stuck in the sweat on his face.

Leaving his fingers inside Sam, Dean turned around so he was kneeling between Sam's thighs. He finger fucked him some more, having more control in this position, aiming... searching for that bundle of nerves deep inside his brother, wanting this to be the best experience possible. First times were often far from perfect, but he was gonna do everything in his power to make this good. Good for his baby brother. His gaze met Sam's, and he was humbled by the trust he saw there. Sure he trusted Sam but... would he ever trust him to... no, he didn't think he could. And yet Sam...

It was what Sam had wanted since the summer, probably since he started to understand his body. Truth be known Sam had climbed into bed with Dean in the middle of the night long after he stopped having nightmares, just because feeling his heat pressed up against his back - made him feel loved...and stirred other things in him he was too young then to understand. His thoughts were interuppted when Dean's finger swept across a spot deep inside Sam that made him cry out his brother's name, his vision went blurry, he almost felt for a moment he was going to pass out... "fuck, Dean..." he moaned into the mattress, the most amazing sensations flowing over his body.

"Gonna make it good for you, Sammy," he promised, sliding one hand around his waist and pulling him back, smiling when his brother automatically got on his knees. Adjusting himself, he pushed his blunt tip up against Sam's hole. Leaning over his brother's back, he kissed Sam's neck, then his mouth. "Remember who taught you to kiss, Sammy... who made you come first? Me. But you wanna know who taught me to have sex and mean it... feel it in my heart? You Sam... only you," he whispered. "You ready to take me?"

Sam's breath quickened and he felt the slightest wave of anxiety wash over him at the feel of Dean's cock pressed up against him. He'd never done this; but he knew Dean wouldn't do anything that would hurt him if he could avoid it...and right now? If Dean stopped - Sam was sure he would die. Dean's words rolled over Sam's body, scorching his flesh with memory; of course he remembered who taught him how to kiss. Thinking about that first kiss, the first taste of his brother, made Sam's muscles weaken all over again. Here in this same room, Sam had come apart, undone, completely in his brother's arms. He didn't just remember it - it was ingrained on his soul.

His head dropped as Dean finished speaking, choked with emotion. Only you Dean, always, only you.. "M...ready." Sam tilted his head back into Dean's.

Dean nodded, trying to appear calm when he was fighting his body's instincts, the need to just barrel inside and start fucking. But no way, no way he was letting Sammy down. He started to push inside slowly, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Relax... just a little longer and it'll be good," he promised as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle. He swept his hand up and down Sam's chest, his belly, crooning in his ear, telling him how good he was doing, that the pain was almost over...

It was all intermingled, Sam's body, his mind overwhelmed with sensation, sound, burning and then Dean's words, his deep voice, gravelly with lust and love. He tried to relax and it would happen in waves, in response to Dean's soothing murmurs against his ear - the touch of his brother's hands over his tender flesh; then Dean would push into him more, his muscles would tighten and the cycle would start all over again. Sam closed his eyes and focussed on his brother's palm running over his chest, his stomach.

"So tight... God Sam," he bit his lower lip and pushed all the way in, closing his eyes as white hot heat went through his system. "Oh God, oh God baby... fuck..." his fingers dug into Sam's hip and belly, as he gripped him in an effort not to buck inside him. "Holy... tell me when, Sam." Even as he tried to stay still, Dean moved slightly, his hips thrusting forward as he buried himself inside his brother to his balls.

So full, so good. Sam rolled his head back, his eyes heavy lidded, glassy, he blinked a few times feeling drunk and slow and rocked back slightly. Dean's fingers dug into him, bruising him, he liked it - knowing that tomorrow he could run his fingers over those marks and remember. His hand reached down to his belly to grab his brother's hand. "S'good Dean," he almost whispered, and pulled forward a little, testing, learning, loving the feel of Dean's cock moving inside him. He knew Dean was holding back, could feel the tremble of his brother's muscles as he tried to keep still. "God Dean... " he pushed back against his brother, taking him all the way inside again, a burning sensation mingling with pleasure as he coaxed his brother into moving.

Dean's head reared back as he tried to hang on. Sam made it hard, so fucking hard. He groaned as his brother backed into him again, making his cock pulse and ache with the need to pound into him. He pulled back a little and thrust forward, burying himself deep inside Sam again, a deep groan welling from the back of his throat. Sam nudged against him one more time, and that was it. Like a dam breaking, Dean propelled into action.

His hips started to snap forward as he fucked his brother hard. It could have been five thrusts to heaven, but he struggled to maintain control, reaching down and pressing his index finger into the base of his own cock to prevent from coming too early. Lifting up slightly, he started to angle his thrusts, some shallow, some deep, always searching for Sam's sweet spot. "That's it... that's it Sammy," he said, feeling is brother get impossibly tighter around him. Fuck... everything he wanted, how did he deserve to get everything he ever wanted?

Sam's heart was beating so fast he could no longer distinguish one beat from the next. His breath whooshed out of his lungs when Dean hit the perfect angle within him, sending sparks throughout his body. His arms faltered, giving out, and he struggled to get his breath back, cheek pressed into the tangled mess of sheets on the bed.

He rocked back hard against Dean, wanted more, his cock dragged over the rough cotton bedding and he moaned loud and long. "Want to co..." he dropped his head again as Dean thrust in, pleasure washing over him, drowning him. He whispered his brother's name and struggled to push up off the bed again. "Harder... " he purred, voice thick and syrupy.

Harder Dean lost it. Gripping Sam with his arm around his stomach, pulling him up so that while Dean was on his knees but sitting back, Sam was practically sitting on him. Dean started to thrust upwards, fucking Sam, branding him with each invasion of his cock deep inside his tight body. "Ride me... ride me, Sam, that's it," he whispered moving faster, harder, loving the sensations rocking his body, of being inside his brother, one with him. With each long powerful thrust, his muscles strained, burned, but it felt so good... so damn good.

Reaching his arm down behind him, Sam was finally able to touch his brother and his eyes closed as he let his head fall back. He reached down and stroked his swollen shaft as his brother thrust into him and he used his strong thighs to push himself up and then fell back pushing Dean further into him. He moaned, wordless sounds, writhing on his brother's lap, so close Sam felt the burning ache deep inside him growing, knew he was close, wanted to come with his brother. "Dean... " it was half moan, half yell.

They both started to make sounds, their cries growing louder. Dean growled, pushed Sam forward, back on all fours. Closing his fist around Sam's cock, he squeezed then started to stroke him, fucking him so hard, the damned mattress moved closer to the fire with each thrust. "Sam... Sammy... Good..." his mouth searched for Sam's, kissing his cheek, then laying a messy kiss on his mouth. His eyes closed tight as the pressure built inside him, driving him toward release. "Come with me... come," he demanded, fucking harder, so hard he knew Sam would hurt tomorrow, would know he'd been there... "Come on Sam.... angh.... Sammy!" he yelled his brother's name as he stiffened and felt himself exploding deep inside his brother, where he belonged.

He thrust his tongue into his brother's mouth, wet lips sliding easily, slipping away quickly. Dean pounded the breath out of his lungs and he loved every moment of it, and just liked he'd waited for those words, he breath caught and he was coming, shooting thick and hot over his chest and his brother's hand. He moaned his brother's name over and over, a litany, feeling Dean pulsing inside him, inside him finally. Sam's body wouldn't stop trembling, he felt Dean's movements start to slow, start to gentle, and he fell forward onto the bed.

Collapsing over Sam, Dean kissed his back, taking deep breaths as his body continued to spasm. "Perfect... just like you," he said, between kisses, running his mouth across Sam's shoulder, down his arm. He relaxed a few moments, then carefully pulled out of his brother, and rolled to his side, facing him. "You alright? A bit late to ask," he said sheepishly, brushing his mouth over Sam's.

Sam ached everywhere, even the lopsided grin on his face made his lips ache. He squirmed his way toward Dean trailing his tongue languidly over his brother's swollen lips. "You're gorgeous," he murmured against Dean's lips then kissed him so he wouldn't have a chance to protest. He sucked Dean's bottom lip into his mouth, arm snaking over his hip and grabbing his ass firmly. "You're mine," he let go of Dean's lip and pressed a kiss onto his mouth. "Tell me you're mine...just this once."

He didn't even hesitate. "Yours, Sam. Always been," he answered, leaning into him, his own hand moving possessively over Sam's ass. "Tell me you're mine." His breath mingled with his brother's, his heart swelled and ached to hear those words.

Smiling, Sam peppered Dean's mouth, chin and jaw with kisses, nuzzling into his neck. "I'm all yours, Dean. Forever." He huffed out a sigh and burrowed closer to Dean - hand flailing blindly behind him for some covers. "S'cold now..." he said, his eyelids drifting closed.

"Mmm, I can change that." Rolling Sam onto his back, he moved over him, kissing his chest. "You fallin' asleep on me, Sam?" He pulled the blanket up to their waists, and kissed again, moving slowly down his brother's body.

"Not gonna sleep... " Sam's voice was quiet as he struggled to stay awake. "You said one night...I don't want to waste any of it," he mumbled, hand stroking his brother's hair. He cradled Dean's head against his chest, wrapped his brother in his arms... perfect, it was all perfect.

 

They'd awakened each other several times, fucked, made love, whispered words of love. Dean had no idea where he'd found the words, but Sam made it easier for him to speak from the heart. But morning always came, didn't it?

He was still holding Sam close, breathing his scent, wondering how the hell they were gonna shower without hot water when he suddenly realized it was warm. A glance at the fireplace showed him the fire had died down. "Huh," he said out loud, now hearing the humming of the heater. The electricity was back on. As he started to untangle their limbs, he felt Sam stir. "Merry Christmas," he said, kissing him lightly.

Stirring at the sound of his brother's voice, Sam stretched his arms up over his head, arching his back and twisting sideways. "Mmmmm." He looked around, blinking, "Merry Christmas, Dean." Sam looked puzzled for a moment, "the heat's on?" He chuckled softly, "how 'bout that." He reached over and rested a hand on Dean's chest. "Oh my God." he hissed, "there are bits of me hurting... I didn't know existed." He grimaced a little, then kissed Dean's arm.

Dean laughed. "Me to bro." He looked under his lashes at his brother, wondering if he still felt him inside. "I think all the heat we generated kicked the electricity on." He relaxed as Sam's mouth skimmed over his skin, until his stomach growled. "How about I make us breakfast? Eggs, bacon... the works."

Sam's arm slid over Dean's chest pulling him close. "That means it's over." He kissed Dean's arm. "My night." He rolled away from his brother onto his back letting his arm fall across his eyes. His voice was thick when he spoke, "Yeah, breakfast would be great, Dean. Just gimme a few minutes and I'll hop in the shower." It took everything Sam had, every ounce of control to keep his voice steady.

"Our night," Dean corrected, putting his hand over Sam's stomach, running it slowly up his chiseled chest. He had no idea what was in store for them now, and he felt his brother's emotions as sharply as his own. "We'll eat... and talk. We're gonna be okay Sam, no matter what. I promise you, no matter what," he said gruffly, rolling over and kissing Sam's chest, right over his heart. "I don't own a lot of things, but what I do own... I take care of."

"I know," Sam's heart warmed at his brother's words, a shiver sliding down his back. Sam knew on some level things would be okay, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to hear more of Dean's reasons to resist and hold back. Sam sighed, then pushed Dean off him and smacked him on the ass. "Move it- make me breakfast." He grinned ... then groaned when he sat up. "Jesus Christ, I feel like I've been run over by a truck." He chuckled, "before that whole breakfast thing - could you help me up?" He beamed over at his brother.

* * *

After he'd helped Sam to the shower, Dean had stepped inside with him. He'd washed quickly, groaned as their wet bodies slid together when he left the stall, then got dried up and dressed quickly.

Last night Sam had said he could handle this, and so had Dean. They both had to now, that was all there was to it.

He was in a pretty good mood by the time he finished making their breakfast, and had their plates on the dining room table. One cup of java down, he'd started on another, when Sam walked in. Dean's gaze moved over his face, noticing the wet hair curling on his forehead. Even from a distance, the scent of soap on his brother did things to his insides.

Moving a little slower than usual, Sam padded over to Dean and slipped his arms around his brother's waist. He kissed his cheek, smelling the coffee on Dean's breath, warm and familiar. He sat down, gingerly on the hard wooden chair and shrugged a shoulder, grinning shyly. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes he picked up a piece of bacon and started munching on it. "We're off to a good start," he said, swallowing and picking up his fork, "no one's run off yet. We're still in the same room." He smirked at Dean, his hair falling back across his face.

"It's cause you know I make a killer breakfast, and... you've worked up an appetite," he said, grinning smugly. "Who could leave with the smell of bacon, huh?" Snagging the piece in Sam's hand, he took a bite.

"Dude! You've got got your own," he huffed and shifted his plate further away from Dean. "And don't say it tastes better when it's mine because it's exactly the same bacon." Sam shifted, uncomfortable on the chair then smiled when his mind drifted back to the cause of his aches. "I've been thinkin', Dean." He put his fork down quietly on the table and let his hands fall back into his lap. "I think.. I don't see why we can't... be together. This makes us both happy, you can't deny that, not after last night." He looked over at Dean through his bangs and smiled. "Okay - so we can't see each other much until I finish school, or whatever, but... what do you think? And don't say the brothery stuff you think you should say - I wanna know what you really want."

Dean stiffened, then forced every part of his body to relax. His own fork fell to the table and he wished he could smile. "Brothery stuff. Sam... I have never wished I wasn't your brother... till now. Cause then all of this would be just about being... gay... and who the fuck cares about that when the payoff is... is you." He nodded. "But family... just close your eyes Sam and try to imagine it. How would it work? How could it?"

"Who have we got to explain to, Dean?" Sam turned on his chair, reaching over and grabbing his brother's hand, threading his fingers through Dean's. "What does it matter? So - we tell Dad we're going to ... live together. Why would he even care - he's spent my whole life ordering you to take care of me. This wouldn't be any different than that. Bobby? Bobby loves us. Everyone else? So what - we're a 'gay' couple. That's not so out-of-the-ordinary anymore." Sam's other hand drifted over to rest over Dean's, his hand between both of Sam's. "Come back with me, Dean. I don't want to live with Jess - you know that. I want to be with you; we could find you a job in Palo Alto."

"Job... I have a job, Sam." That wasn't the big issue, not the biggest at least. "It's illegal." Yeah, like that was gonna fly. "It's not healthy... it messes people up. Don't look at me like that, I love you, you're right about that, but you think I want to mess you up? Mess you up more? You think in a million fucking years you'd choose this over Jess, or a hundred other girls, if I hadn't... if that summer hadn't happened?"

He looked out the window, then back at Sam. "One day, after life had passed you by, you know you'd hate me. I couldn't stand that Sam, I'd rather die than see you look t me like I wasted your life like that. You always knew what you wanted. School, college... a normal family. What you're talking about... it's off the charts not normal. You know?"

"What like demonic possession and vampires? Nothing about my life has been normal except my relationship with you." Sam let go of his brother's hand and sat back on his chair groaning. "Dean, you didn't make this happen. If anyone did, it was me. Last summer, when I was sneaking around behind you watching you kiss your girlfriends I knew it wasn't the girls I was getting hard over. I knew that then, and illegal? Give me a break. You taught me how to pick a lock when I was ten and now you want to get high and mightly about the law. Did you know that in Ancient Egypt members of the Royal family were encouraged to partner with their silbings? And anyway," he shrugged, "this is kind of a victimless crime - it's not like you're going to get pregnant and give birth to a baby with three heads." He rubbed his hand down his face, like he'd seen his brother do so many times, "come back with me."

"You know what Sam? You're one of the most 'open' people I know. You're gonna be happy hiding your relationship? You're okay with never touching in public, never having a 'date' unless it's... it's with someone 'not me', cause you need one? I don't think you can make that decision, anymore than... than you could... should have in the summer." He felt like he'd been sucker punched at that information about Sam's earlier feelings, something he'd never thought about or suspected. "You're only seventeen, Sammy. You'd only just turned seventeen back then. You were having trouble with girls, but I was familiar... safe. Ever think that's what happened?"

"No, I don't. I know that's not what happened." Sam blushed and looked down at his plate. "You're not the only guy I've ever looked at - but you're the only one I want to be with like this. Even before the summer Dean, I just didn't understand what it was then..." he got quiet for a moment pushing a slice of bacon around with his finger. "It didn't seem to bother you that I was sleeping with Jessica. Why was I old enough to make that decision and not this one? It's only okay for a seventeen-year old to make decisions about his life if it involves women? Even for you that's a bit of a reach. And I am open, and I don't see why I can't be living with you and calling you my partner...and we'll just be Sam and Dean... " he shrugged, "Just Sam and Dean. No one has to know we're brothers. Just give it a try Dean." Sam pushed up on the table and limped sideways kneeling down beside his brother hands curling over Dean's thigh. "Just try it...come with me for a little while - see if it works."

The lump in Dean's throat doubled in size as he looked down at his brother, staring at him, almost believing Sam did know what he wanted... just like always. Could this work? Could they make it? Hide it from those they had to, like their dad and Bobby. Maybe other hunters cause a couple of gay hunters... they'd be a laughing stock and there was no way his dad wouldn't get wind of it and put a bullet through his head himself.

He was lost in his thoughts until he felt Sam kneading his thigh. His breaths started to leave quicker. "You're not even gonna let me have breakfast, are you?" he said thickly, sliding down off his chair and pushing Sam down on his back. Straddling his body, he hovered over his mouth. "Five years. You graduate and ... and decide what you're gonna do, go to lawschool, find a job... whatever, and if you come back to me, ask me again, the answer's yes. Five years to find yourself, know what you want. Five years for me to believe it. Deal, Sam?"

"I already know. The end of this school year. I'll be eighteen in the Spring. We hunt together for the summer and then I'll go back to school in the fall and you come with me." Sam reached up trying to catch Dean's mouth with his, when Dean pulled away he frowned, "Deal?"

"Uh uh, too big a decision for eighteen. Four years, three and a half," he gave in some, seeing the stubborn tilt of Sam's jaw. "Your graduation, you tell me what you want then. Come on Sam... too young, this isn't a decision you can make lightly."

"I'm not making a decision lightly, I've been with you my whole life. I know exactly who you are," he laid his hand over Dean's heart, "in here. I know everything about you, and you know everything about me, no one knows me better than you do. I want this... hell, Dean I need you. I feel better when I'm with you, calmer, grounded. One year from now... I want you...for Christmas next year - not for one night - for all of them." His fingers curled into his brother chest, "final offer." He bit down hard on his bottom lip staring into those green eyes he loved.

"One year, next Christmas," Dean nodded, almost grimly. "You don't change your mind, then we do this... we make it work, somehow." He had trouble envisioning it, but he'd make it happen. Lowering his mouth over Sam's, he licked the bottom lip that Sam had caught between his lips, and once Sam released it, he pushed his tongue into his mouth. My brother, my lover. God it was weird, and so fucking right. Maybe Sam saw things on a whole nuther level. Working his lips over his brother's, he kissed him harder, until his mouth, already abused all night, started to burn.

Sam let his aching body rest back into the floor, all the tension slipping away as Dean's mouth crushed into him, burning and hurting and perfect. Sucking his brother's tongue into his mouth, Sam slipped his fingers under the edge of Dean's shirt, knowing for the first time ever, it didn't matter what he did - no one would run away. "You think you can go again...?" He mumbled into his brother's mouth. "I mean, I know you're old...and all." His eyes sparkled, then drifted closed as Dean crushed their mouths together again.

* * *

 

Dean stood on the porch, watching his brother drive off now that the snow had stopped and it was safe. He knew he could easily get rid of the leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach. One phone call, and Sam would be back, ready to start that strange future they'd talked about. He rubbed his wrist, over the leather wrist band his brother had given him, and started to head inside to lock the place up when he noticed a boot print on the porch, near the window.

Frowning, he went to inspect. He knew damned well it wasn't his or Sam's, and hadn't been there before. Just as the thought struck him that the markings reminded him of his father's boots, he looked inside the window and had a clear view of the mattress they'd dragged in front of the fire. Tensing, he looked down again at the print, then turned on his heels to walk down the stairs and into the shed across the way. He inspected the generator, and saw a shiny new bolt, the old one laying on the ground. "Holy shit... No. It couldn't be, cause he wouldn't be standing here now. It just... no way."

THE END


End file.
